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$$% 2D*ate0t apotljer 






• v-s- v*-'- ^-- «.>■ 

MB SEie 


These reminiscences of the early days of Melbourne 
— a city which, as a family, we helped to found — 
awakened, when first published in the columns of the 
Australasian, an amount of general interest most 
gratifying to the writer. 

It is hoped that, in their present more convenient 
form, they may secure and retain the approbation of 
the public. 

I should feel bound to apologise for the mention 
of names in full were I not conscious that I have 
written no line calculated to offend ; nor have I, for 
one moment, failed in sincere goodwill towards every 
comrade of that joyous time. 



A.D. 1840 ...... I 


The Far West . . . . .10 

The Death of Violet . . . 23 


DUNMORE . . . . . -33 


Squattlesea Mere . . . . 4 1 


The Eumeralla War . . . • 5 1 



The Children of the Rocks 


Kll FERA . 

Old Port Fairy 




The Native Police . • .  74 



Portland Bay . • • • .106 



Sup] !'.VI rENINC COUN1 RV . . • 'J- 

CHETT 01 •■ 1 hi Gums" . . .142 

Work and Play . . . • • 15 1 




The Romance of a Freehold . . . 160 

Le Chevalier Bayard . . . .170 


The Christening of Heidelberg . . .179 

The Woodlands Steeplechase . . .187 

Yering ...... 200 


Tales of a "Traveller" . . . .212 

Yambuk ...... 222 


Ballaarat in 185 1 . . . . -237 

The Death of Welford .... 242 
Sunset in the South .... 244 

XI 1 



The Bushman's Lullaby 




" Priez pour Elle' 






A.D. 184O 

Standing in the gathering winterly twilight, at the 
intersection of Elizabeth and Flinders Streets, one 
instinctively remarks the long crowded suburban 
trains, laden with homeward-bound passengers, 
quitting the city and care for the night's charmed 
interval. All the streets of busy Melbourne are yet 
thronged, in spite of the apparently rapid diminution 
which is proceeding. The indefinable hum, notice- 
able in large urban populations at the close of the 
day, as the lamps are lit, which mark for most men 
the boundary between work and recreation, is 
increasingly audible. The grand outlines of the 
larger public buildings become suggestively indis- 
tinct. If your ear be good, you may hear the 
steam-whistle and the roar of the country trains at 
Spencer Street Station. The senses of the musing 
spectator are filled to saturation with the sights 
and sounds proper to the largest, the most highly 
civilised, the most prosperous city in the world, for 
the years of its existence. Stranger than fiction 
& B 


docs it not seem, that in the month of April, in the 
year of grace 1840, we should have migrated en 
famille from Sydney to assist in the colonisation of 
Port Phillip, in the founding of this city of Melbourne ? 
The moderate-sized schooner which carried us safely 
hither in a few hours under a week had been 
chartered by Paterfamilias, so that we were unre- 
stricted as to many matters not usually left to the 
discretion of passengers. It was a floating home. 
Colonists of ten years' standing, we had many things 
to bear with us, which under other circumstances of 
transit must have been left behind. There were 
carriage horses and cows, the boys' ponies, the 
children's canaries, poultry, and pigeons, dogs and 
cats, babies and nurses, furniture, flower-pots, work- 
men, house servants — all the component portions of 
a large household shifted bodily from a suburban 
home, and ready to be transferred to the first 
suitable dwelling in the new settlement. One can 

ily imagine to what a state of misery and con- 
fusion such a freight would have been reduced had 
bad weather come on. But the winds and the 
waves were kind, and on Saturday afternoon the 
harbour-master of Williamstown partook of some 
slight alcoholic refreshment on board, and welcomed 
us to Port Phillip. Well is remembered even now 
the richly-green appearance of the under-stocked 

issy Hat upon which the particularly small village 
of Williamstown stood. A few cottages, more huts 
— with certain public-houses, of course — made up 
the township. More distinctly marked even were 
the succulence and juiciness of the first Port Phillip 
mutton-chops upon which was regaled our keenly 

i A.D. 1840 3 

hungry party. We had just quitted the enfeebled 
meat markets of Sydney, scarce recovered from that 
terrible drought which wasted the years of 1837, 
1838, and 1839. We had reached a land of 
Goshen evidently — a land of milk and butter, if not 
of honey — a land of chops and steaks, of sirloins 
and " under-cuts " — of all youthful luxuries well-nigh 
forgotten — of late unattainable in New South Wales 
as strawberry ice in a cane-brake. 

Among other trifles which our very complete 
outfit had comprehended was a small steamboat 
adapted for the tortuous but necessary navigation of 
the Yarra Yarra, of which noble stream, moving 
calmly through walls of ti-tree, we commenced to 
make the acquaintance. This steamerlet — she was 
a very tiny automaton, puffing out of all proportion 
to her speed — but the only funnel-bearer — think of 
that, Victorians of this high-pressure era ! — had been 
sent down by the head of the family the voyage 
before, safely bestowed upon the deck of a larger 
vessel. " The Movastar was a better boat," I 
daresay, but the tiny Firefly bore us and the Lares 
and Penates of many other " first families " — in the 
sense of priority — safely to terra firma on the north 
side of what was then called the " Yarra Basin." 
This was an oval-shaped natural enlargement of the 
average width of the river, much as a waterhole in 
a creek exceeds the ordinary channel. The energetic 
Batman and the sturdy Cobbett of the south, Pascoe 
Fawkner, had thought it good to set about making 
a town, and here we found the bustling Britisher of 
the period engaged in building up Melbourne with 
might and main. Our leader laid it down at that 


time, as the result of his experience of many lands, 
that the new colony, being outside of 36 deg. south 
latitude, would not be scourged with droughts as had 
been New South Wales from her commencement. 
In great measure, and absolutely as regarding the 
western portions of Victoria, this prophecy has been 
borne out. 

Sufficient time had elapsed for the army of 
mechanics, then established in Port Phillip, to erect 
many weatherboard and a few brick houses. Into 
a cottage of the latter construction we were hastily 
inducted, pending the finishing of a two-storied 
mansion in Flinders Street, not very far from 
Prince's Bridge. Bridge was there none in those 
days, it is hardly necessary to say ; not even the 
humble one with wooden piers that spanned the 
stream later, and connected Melbourne people with 
the sandy forest of South Yarra, then much despised 
for its alleged agricultural inferiority : still there was 
a punt. You could get across, but not always when 
you wanted. And I recall the incident of Captain 
Brunswick Smyth, late of the 50th Regiment, and 
the first commandant of mounted police, riding 
down to the ferry, from which the guardian was 
absent — "sick, or drunk, or suthin " — and, with 
military impatience, dashing on board with a brace 
of troopers, who pulled the lumbering barge across, 
and fastened her to the farther shore. 

Large trees at that time studded the green 
meadow, which, after the winter rain, was marshy 
and reed-covered. There did I shoot, and bear home 
with schoolboy pride, a blue crane — the Australian 

ion — who, being only wounded, "went near" to 

i A.D. 1840 5 

pick out one of my eyes, wounding my cheek-bone 
with a sudden stab of his closed beak. The lovely 
bronze -wing pigeons were plentiful then amid the 
wild forest tracks of Newtown, afterwards Colling- 
wood. Many times have I and my boy comrades 
stood at no great distance from the present populous 
suburb and wondered whether we were going straight 
for the " settlement," as we then irreverently styled 
the wonder-city. The streets of the new-born town 
had been " ruled off," as some comic person phrased 
it, very straight and wide ; but there had not been 
sufficient money as yet available from the somewhat 
closely-guarded distant Treasury of Sydney to clear 
them from stumps. However, as in most commu- 
nities during the speculative stage, any amount was 
forthcoming when required for purposes of amusement. 
Balls, picnics, races, and dinners were frequent and 
fashionable. Driving home from one of the first- 
named entertainments, through the lampless streets, 
a carriage, piloted by a gallant officer, came to signal 
grief against a stump. The ladies were thrown out, 
the carriage thrown over, and the charioteer fractured. 
Paterfamilias, absent on business, marked his dis- 
approval of the expedition by resolutely refraining 
from repairing the vehicle. For years after it stood 
in the back yard with cracked panels, a monument 
of domestic miscalculation. 

It must be terribly humiliating to the survivors of 
that " first rush " to consider what untold wealth lay 
around them in the town and suburban allotments, 
which the most guarded investment would have 
secured. The famous subdivision in Collins Street, 
upon which the present Bank of Australasia now 


stands, was purchased by the Wesleyan denomination 
for £70 ! Acres and half-acres in Flinders, Collins, 
and Elizabeth Streets were purchased at the first 
Government sales held in Sydney at similar and 
lower rates. I have heard the late Mr. Jacques, at 
that time acting as Crown auctioneer, selling at the 
Sydney markets ever so much of Williamstown, at 
prices which would cause the heart of the land-dealer 
of the present day to palpitate strangely. I can 
hear now the old gentleman's full, sonorous voice 
rolling out the words, " Allotment so-and-so, parish of 
Will-will-rook," the native names being largely and 
very properly used. " Villamanatah " and " Maribyr- 
nong " occurred, I think, pretty often in the same 
series of sales. The invariable increase in prices after 
the first sales led naturally to a species of South Sea 
stock bubbledom. He who bought to-day — and 
men of all classes shared in the powerful excitement 
— was so certain of an advance of 25, 50, or cent 
per cent, that every one who could command the 
wherewithal hastened to the land lottery, where every 
ticket was a prize. Speculative eagles in flocks were 
gathered around the carcase. Borrowing existed 
then, though undeveloped as one of the fine arts 
compared to its latest triumphs ; bills, even in that 
struggling infancy of banking, were thick in the 
air. Successful or prospective sales necessitated 
champagne lunches, whereby the empty bottles — 
erstwhile filled with that cheerful vintage — accumu- 
lated in stacks around the homes and haunts of the 
leading operators. The reigning Governor-General, 
on a Hying visit to the non-mineral precursor of 
Ballarat and BendigO, noted the unparalleled pro- 

i A.D. 1840 7 

fusion, and, it is said, refused on that account some 
request of the self-elected Patres Conscripti of our 
Rome in long clothes. Farms, in blocks of forty and 
eighty acres, had been marked off above the Yarra 
Falls. They had been purchased at prices tending 
to be high, as prices ruled then. But they could not 
have been really high, for one of them, since pretty 
well known as Toorak, for years rented for several 
thousands per annum, and possessing a value of 
about £1000 each for its eighty acres, was purchased 
by an early colonist for less than ^"iooo, all told. 
It was subsequently sold by him, under the crushing 
pressure of the panic of 1842 and 1843, for £120. 

What a different place was the Flemington race- 
course, say, when Victor and Sir Charles ran for the 
Town Plate — when Romeo's white legs and matchless 
shoulder were to be seen thereon — when Jack 
Hunter's filly, Hellcat, won the Sir Charles Purse, 
furnished by a generous stud patron for the owners 
of descendants of that forgotten courser. Fancy the 
change to the Cup day with Martini-Henry coming 
in ! Where racing springs up, there also do differ- 
ences of opinion frequently occur. With respect to 
the said victory of Hellcat, then the property of Jack 
Hunter, it was objected by a well-known " horse 
couper " of the day, known as " Hopping Jack," that 
she was no true descendant of Sir Charles. He was 
contradicted very flatly, and sufficient proof having 
been afforded to the stewards, her owner received the 
stakes. Still the mighty mind of John Ewart held 
distrust as he ambled home, dangling his "game" 
leg on his eel-backed bay horse, the same which 
carried him overland from Sydney to Melbourne in 


ten days — six hundred miles. "A sworn horse- 
courser," like Blount, was Hopping Jack, and, unlike 
Marmion's fast squire, had ridden many a steeple- 
chase. In the quickly shifting adventure-scope of 
the day it chanced that the two Jacks went to sea, 
desiring to revisit Scotia, doubtless for their pecuniary 
benefit. A great storm arose, and the homeward- 
bound vessel was wrecked. The passengers barely 
escaped with their lives, and were forced to return to 
Port Phillip. At one period of the disaster there was 
little or no hope for the lives of all. As they clung 
gloomily to the uplifted deck — fast on a reef — 
Hopping Jack approached Mr. Hunter with a grave 
and resolved air. All waited to hear his words. In 
that solemn hour he proved the exquisite accuracy 
of the thought, " The ruling passion strong in death," 
by thus adjuring his turf acquaintance, " Look here, 

Mr. Hunter, we shall all be in in twenty 

minutes, it can't matter much now. Was Hellcat 
really a Sir Charles?" History is silent as to the 

How strange a Melbourne would the picture — 
still distinctly photographed on memory's wondrous 
"negative" — present to the inhabitant of 1884. A 
solitary wood cart is struggling down from the direc- 
tion of Brighton along the unmade sandy track, 
patiently to await the convenience of the puntman. 
Frank Liardet is driving his unicorn omnibus team 
from the lonely beach, where now the sailors revel in 
many a glittering bar, and the tall sugar-refinery 
chimney "lifts its head" and smokes — or, at any 
rate, did recently. The squatter's wool -freighted 
bullock-teams lumber along the deep ruts of Flinders 

i A.D. 1840 9 

Lane. John Pascoe Favvkner bustles up and down 
the western end, at that time the fashionable part, 
of Collins Street. The eastern portion of that street 
— now decorated with palatial clubs and treasuries, 
and dominated by doctors — was then principally 
known as " the way to the Plenty," a rivulet on the 
banks of which still abode certain cheerful young 
agricultural aristocrats, who had not had time quite 
to ruin themselves. Now a whole tribe of blacks — 
wondering and frightened, young and old, warriors 
and greybeards, women and children — is being driven 
along Collins Street by troopers, on their way to the 
temporary gaol, there to be incarcerated for real or 
fancied violence. The philanthropist may console 
himself with the knowledge that they burrowed under 
their dungeon slabs and, I think, escaped. If not, 
they were released next day. 

Mr. Latrobe, successor of Captain Lonsdale, on a 
state day — not styled Governor, but his Honour the 
Superintendent — is riding towards Batman's Hill on 
a crop-eared hog-maned cob, yclept Knocker- 
croghery, attired in uniform, escorted by Captain 
Smyth and his terrible mounted police, the only 
military force of the day. The great plains, the 
wide forest-parks, shut closely in the little town on 
every side. Countless swans and ducks are disport- 
ing themselves in unscared freedom upon the great 
West Melbourne marsh. The travel-stained squatter 
rides wearily up to the livery stable, as yet unable 
to shorten by coach or rail a mile of his journey. 



It seems only the other day — but surely it must be 
a long time ago — that January evening of 1844, 
when I camped my cattle near the old burying- 
ground at North Melbourne. I was bound for the 
Western district, where I proposed to " take up a 
run." And towards this pastoral paradise the dawn 
saw my " following " winding its way next morning. 

A modest drove and slender outfit were mine ; 
all that the hard times had spared. Two or three 
hundred well-bred cattle, a dray and team with pro- 
visions for six months, two stock-horses, one faithful 
old servant, one young ditto (unfaithful), ,£1 in my 
purse — voila tout. Rather a limited capital to 
begin the world with ; but what did I want with 
money in those days ? I was a boy, which means 
a prince — happy, hopeful, healthy, beyond all latter- 
day possibilities, bound on a journey to seek my 
fortune. All the fairy-tale conditions were fulfilled. 
I had " horse to ride and weapon to wear " — that is, 
a 1 2-foot stock-whip by Nangus Jack — clothes, tools, 
guns, and ammunition ; a new world around and 

chap, ii THE FAR WEST n 

beyond ; what could money do for the gentleman- 
adventurer burning with anticipation of heroic 
exploration ? Such thoughts must have passed 
through my brain, inasmuch as I invested 75 per 
cent of my cash in the purchase of a cattle dog. 
Poor Dora, she barked her last some thirty-five years 

On the next day we crossed the Moonee Ponds 
at Flemington, took the Keilor road, and managed 
to bustle our mob all the way to the Werribee. A 
slightly unfair journey ; but the summer day was 
long, and we made the river with the fading light 
about eight. I had a reason, too. Here bivouacked 
my good old friend the late William Ryrie, of Yering. 
He, too, was journeying to the west country with a 
large drove of Upper Yarra stores. He had kindly 
consented to join forces — an arrangement more to 
my advantage than his. So, as his cattle were 
drawing into camp, I cheerfully " boxed " mine 
therewith, and relieved myself by the act of further 

Night watches were duly set, after an evening 
meal of a truly luxurious character. I felt at odd 
moments as if I would have given all the world for 
a doze unrebuked. At last the whole four mortal 
hours came to an end. Then I understood, almost 
for the first time in my life, what " first-class sleep " 
really meant. 

At sunrise I awoke much fresher than paint, and 
walking to the door of the tent, which held three 
stretchers — those of the leader of the party, his 
brother Donald, and myself — looked out upon the 
glorious far-stretching wild. What a sight was there, 


seen with the eyes of unworn, undoubting youth ! 
On three sides lay the plains, a dimly verdurous ex- 
panse, over which a night mist was lifting itself along 
the line of the river. The outline of the Anakie- 
You Yangs range was sharply drawn against the 
dawn-lighted horizon, while far to the north-east was 
seen the forest-clothed summit of Mount Macedon, 
and westward gleamed the sea. The calm water of 
Corio Bay and the abrupt cone of Station Peak, nearly 
in the line of our route, formed an unmistakable yet 
picturesque landmark. 

The cattle, peacefully grazing, were spread over 
the plain, having been released from camp. The 
horses were being brought in ; among them I was 
quick to distinguish my valuable pair. Old Watts, 
the campkeeper, a hoary retainer of Yering — who 
gave his name to the affluent of the Yarra so called 
— was cooking steaks for breakfast. Everything 
was delightfully new, strangely exhilarating, with a 
fresh flavour of freedom and adventure. 

After breakfast we saddled up, and, mounting our 
horses, strolled on after a leisurely fashion with the 
cattle. I was riding, as became an Australian, a 
four-year-old colt, my own property, and bred in the 
family. A grandson of Skeleton and of Satellite, he 
was moderately fast and a great stayer. Mr. 
Donald Ryrie rode a favourite galloway yclept Dumple 
— a choice roadster and clever stock-horse, much 
resembling in outline Dandle Dinmont's historic 
" powney." He and I were sufficiently near in age 
to enjoy discursive conversation during the long, 
slightly tedious driving hours, to an extent which 
occasionally impaired our usefulness. When in 


argument or narrative we permitted " the tail " to 
straggle unreasonably we were sharply recalled to 
our duty. Our kind-hearted choleric leader then 
adopted language akin to that in which the ruffled 
M.F.H. exhorts the erring horsemen of his field. 

Ah me, what pleasant days were those ! A little 
warm, even hot, doubtless. But we could take off 
our coats without fear of Mrs. Grundy. There was 
plenty of grass. " Travelling " was an honourable 
and recognised occupation in those Arcadian times. 
" Purchased land " was an unknown quantity. 
Droughts were disbelieved in, and popularly supposed 
to belong exclusively to the " Sydney side." The 
horses were fresh, the stages were moderate, and 
when a halt was called at sundown the cattle soon 
lay contentedly down in the soft, thick grass. The 
camp fires were lighted, and another pleasant, hope- 
ful day was succeeded by a restful yet romantic night. 

So we fared on past the Little River and Fyans' 
Ford, where a certain red cow of mine was nearly 
drowned, and had to be left behind ; then to Beale's, 
on the Barwon ; thence to Colac, for we had decided 
to take the inner road and not to go by " the French- 
man's," or " Cressy," then represented solely by Mon- 
sieur (and Madame) Duverney's Inn, as it was then 

Apropos of Fyans' Ford, there was an inn as we 
passed up. When returning I met with an adventure 
nearly similar to that in " She Stoops to Conquer." 
I left the station for Melbourne in the December 
following, having earned a Christmas at home. 
When I arrived at Geelong I turned out early next 
morning, and rode to Fyans' Ford to see if I could 


find " tale or tidings " of the red cow left behind, as 
before mentioned. How honest were nearly all men 
in those days ! I did hear of her, and, having dis- 
covered her whereabouts, I went to the old house to 
breakfast, preparatory to riding to Heidelberg, fifty- 
seven miles all told, that night. 

Dismounting at the stable door, I gave my mare 
to the groom, with a brisk injunction as to a good 
feed, and passed into the house. In the parlour was 
a maid-servant laying the breakfast. I stood before 
the fireplace in an easy attitude, and demanded when 
breakfast would be ready. 

"In about half an hour, sir." I noticed a slightly 
surprised air. 

" Can't you get it a little sooner, Mary ? " I said, 
guessing at her name with the affability of a tavern 
guest of fashion and substance. 

" I don't know, sir," she made answer meekly. 

" Come, Mary," I said, " surely you could manage 
something in less time ? I have a long way to ride 

She smiled, and was about to reply, when a door 
opened, and a middle-aged personage, with full mili- 
tary whiskers, and an air of authority, looked in. 

" I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing 
you, sir," he stated, with a certain dignity. 

" No," I said ; " no ! I think not. Not been here 
since last year." (I did not particularly see the 
necessity either.) I was cool and cheerful, and it 
struck me that, for an innkeeper, he was over-punc- 

" This is no inn, sir," he said, with increased 


In a moment my position flashed upon me. I 
then remembered I had not noticed the sign as I rode 
up. The house and grounds, large and extensive, 
had been occupied by a private family. Nothing 
very uncommon about that. So here had I been 
ordering my horse to be fed, and lecturing the 
parlour-maid, all the while in a strange gentleman's 

I could not help laughing, but immediately pro- 
ceeded to apologise fully and formally, at the same 
time pointing out that the place had been an inn 
when I last saw it. Hence my mistake, which I 
sincerely regretted. I bowed, and made for the 

My host's visage relaxed. " Come," he said, " I 
see how it all happened. But you must not lose 

your breakfast for all that. Mrs. will be ready 

directly, and my daughter. I trust you will give us 
the pleasure of your company." 

" All's well that ends well." I was introduced to 
the ladies of the house, who made themselves agree- 
able. There was a good laugh over my invasion of 
the parlour and Mary's astonishment. I breakfasted 
with appetite. We parted cordially. And, as my 
mare carried me to Heidelberg that night without 
a sign of distress, she probably had breakfasted well 

I recollect — how well ! — the night I reached 
Lake Colac. Mr. Hugh Murray had, I think, the 
only station upon it, and the Messrs. Dennis were 
a short distance on the hither side. The Messrs. 
Robertson farther on. The cattle had rather a long 
day without water. Not quite so bad as the Old 


Man Plain, but a good stretch. We did not " make " 
the lake until after dark. How they all rushed in ! 
It was shallow, and sound as to bottom. We con- 
cluded to let them alone, not believing that they 
would wander far through such good feed before day. 
So we had our supper cheerfully, and turned in. 
We could hear them splashing about in the water, 
drinking exhaustively, and finally returning in division. 
At daylight, the first man up (not the writer) descried 
them comfortably camped, nearly all down within a 
few hundred yards. 

How far is the Parin Yallock ? It is many a 
year since I saw the Stony Rises, as we somewhat 
unscientifically called the volcanic trap dykes and 
lava outflows, now riven into boulders and scoria 
masses, yet clothed with richest grass and herbage, 
which surround for many miles the craters of Noorat, 
" The Sisters " — Leura and Porndon. Well, we took 
it very easily along that pastoral Eden, the garden 
of Australia, where dwelt pastoral man before the 
Fall, ere he was driven forth into far sun-scorched 
drought -accursed wilds to earn his bread by the 
sweat of his brain, and to bear the heart-sickness 
that comes of hope long deferred — the deadly 
despair that is born of long years of waiting for 
slow remorseless ruin. Ha ! how have we skipped 
over half- a -century, more or less! Bless you, 
nobody was ruined in those golden days, because 
there was no credit. Riverina was almost as much 
a terra incognita as Borneo — much more the Lower 
Macquaric and the Upper Bogan. But I must get 
back to Colac, and feel the thick kangaroo grass 
under my feet, quite as thick as an English meadow 


(I have been there since, too), as Donald and I led 
our horses. He had a rein which slipped out at 
the cheek, contrived on purpose for his horse, and 
the better sustentation of him, Dumple. 

We leave Captain Fyans' station on our right. 
He was the Crown Lands Commissioner in those 
days, and had the sense to take up a small, but 
very choice, bit of the " waste lands of the Crown " 
on his own account. There abide the " FF " cattle 
to this day, if the Messrs. Robertson have not deposed 
them in favour of sheep, or the rabbits eaten them 
out of house and home. 

We pass the police station, another rich pasture 
reserved for the mounted police troopers and their 
chargers. There old Hatsell Garrard dwelt for a 
season, with his fresh-coloured English yeoman face, 
his pleasant, racy talk, and unerring judgment in 
horse-flesh. Did not Cornborough, that grand old 
son of Tramp, emigrate to Victoria under his auspices? 
I need say no more. 

Then we come to Scott and Richardson's, the 
Parin Yallock station proper. Both good fellows. 
The latter might aver with Ralph Leigh — 

Those were the days when my beard was black, 

and the good steed Damper was not much averse to 
" a stiff top rail," though carrying a rider considerably 
over six feet, and a welter weight to boot. Between 
the station and the crossing-place — difficult and 
dangerous it was, too, even for horsemen — we 
camped. It came on to rain. It was our only 
unpleasant night (except one when we missed the 
drays and had no supper. I didn't smoke then and 



oh ! how hungry I was). The cattle were uneasy, 
and " ringed " all night. Next morning the camp 
was like a circus on a large scale. The soil is rich 
and black. I have seen no mud to speak of for the 
last ten years. Even the mud in those parts was of 
a superior description. 

Next day we faced the Parin Yallock Creek and 
its malign ford — save the mark ! One dray was 
bogged ; several head of cattle ; my colt went down 
tail first, and nearly " turned turtle," but eventually 
the corps dartnie got safely over to the sound but 
rugged stony rises. Crossing them, we reached the 
broad rich flats around the lovely lake of Purrumbcct. 

It was late when we got there, the cattle having 
been hustled and bustled to get out of the labyrinthine 
stony rises before dark ; and the day turning out 
warm after the rain, they were inclined to drink 
heartily. To this intent they ran violently into 
the lake, I don't know how many fathoms deep, and 
shelving abruptly. All the leaders were out of their 
depth at once, and swam about with a surprised air. 
However, the beach was hard and smooth, so back 
they came, in good trim to set to at the luxuriant 
herbage which borders the lake shore. I wonder 
what the Messrs. Manifold would think now of a 
thousand head ot cattle coming ravaging up close to 
the house, and walking into their clover and rye- 
grass, without saying " by your leave," much less 
" reporting." 

When the day broke how lovely the landscape 
seemed. The rugged lava country that we had left 
behind had given place to immense meadows and 
grassy slopes, thinly timbered with handsome black- 


wood trees. The Lake Purrumbeet was the great 
central feature — a noble sheet of water, with sloping 
green banks, and endless depth of the fresh pure 
element. On the western bank was built a comfort- 
able cottage, where flowers and fruit trees by their 
unusual luxuriance bore testimony to the richness 
of the deep black alluvial. 

We did a "lazyally" sort of day — the cattle 
knee -deep in grass, every one taking it extremely 
easy. Leura, another volcano out of work, surrounded 
by wonderful greenery, wherein the station cattle lay 
about, looking like prize-winners that had strayed 
from a show-yard, was passed about mid-day. Next 
morning saw us at Mr. Neil Black's Basin Bank 
station. Here we saw the heifers of the NB herd. 
They were " tailed " or herded, as was the fashion in 
those days, and a fine well-grown, well-bred lot they 
were. The overseer was either Donald or Angus 
"to be sure whateffer," one of a draft of stalwart 
Highlanders which Mr. Black used to import annually. 
Very desirable colonists they were, and as soon as 
they " got the English," a matter of some difficulty 
at the outset, they commenced to save money at a 
noticeable rate. A fair-sized section of the Western 
district is now populated by these Glenormiston 
clansmen and their descendants, and no man was 
better served than their worthy chief — Neil of 
that ilk. 

From Basin Bank we drove towards the late 
Mr. William Hamilton's Yallock station, where we 
abode one night. Here, or at the next stage, the 
trail was not so plain. I have a reminiscence of our 
having camped one night at a spot not intended for 


such a halt, and losing our supper in consequence. 
No doubt we made up for it at breakfast. 

Now we had come to the end of the genuine 
Colac country. What we were approaching was a 
good land, richly grassed, and, agriculturally speaking, 
perhaps superior to the other. But I shall always 
consider the sub-district that I have just described, 
including Messrs. Black's, Robertson's, Manifold's, 
and one or two other properties, having regard to 
soil, climate, pasture, and distance from a metropolis, 
as the very choicest area to be found in the whole 
Australian continent. 

A kw more days' easy travelling took us nearly 
to our journey's end. We reached the bank of the 
Merai, at Grasmere, the head station of the Messrs. 
Bolden, and there, not many miles from the site of 
the flourishing township of Warrnambool, we drafted 
our respective cattle, and went different ways — Mr. 
Ryric's to his run, not far from Tower Hill, and mine 
to appropriate some unused country between the 
Merai and the sea. 

Here I camped for about six months, and a right 
joyous time it was in that " kingdom by the sea." 
I remember riding down to the shore one bright 
day, just below where Warrnambool now stands. 
No trace of man or habitation was there, " nor roof 
nor latched door." As I rode over the sand hummock 
which bordered the beach, a draft of out-lying cattle, 
basking in the sun on the farther side, rose and 
galloped off. All else was silent and tenantless as 
before the days of Cook. 

I took up my abode provisionally upon the bank 
of the Merai, which, near the mouth, was a broad 


and imposing stream, and turned out my herd. My 
stockman and I spent our days in " going round " 
the cattle ; shooting and kangaroo-hunting in odd 
times — recreation to which he, as an ex-poacher of 
considerable experience, took very kindly. The 
pied goose, here in large flocks, with duck, teal, 
pigeons, and an occasional wild turkey, were our 
chief sport and sustenance. 

On the opposite side of the river was the first 
cultivated area in the Port Fairy district, then known 
as Campbell's farm. An old colonial whaling com- 
pany had their headquarters at the Port, and Captain 
Campbell, a stalwart Highlander long known as 
Port Fairy Campbell, had utilised his spare crews 
in the early days, and tested the richness of that 
famous tract of fertile land now known as the 
Farnham Survey. 

We were not without practical demonstration of 
the bounty of the soil. One evening I was astonished 
to see splendid mealy potatoes served up with the 
accustomed corned beef. 

" Where did you get these, Mrs. Burge ? " said I 
to the stockman's wife. 

" From the lubras," rather consciously ; " I gave 
them beef in exchange." 

" A very fair one," but a light suddenly striking 
upon my mental vision, — " Where do the lubras get 
them from ? They toil not, neither do they spin ! " 

" I don't know for certain, sir," she answered, 
looking down, " but they're digging the potato 
crop, I believe, at Campbell's farm." Here was 
foreshadowed the enormous Warrnambool export, 
that immense intercolonial potato trade, which has 


latterly assumed such proportions, and which in- 
vades even this far north-western corner of New 
South Wales. What glorious times I had, gun in 
hand, or with our three famous kangaroo dogs, 
slaying the swift marsupial. In those days he 
was tolerated and rather admired, no one imagining 
that he would be, a couple of generations later, a 
scourge and an oppressor, eating the sparse herbage 
of the overstocked squatter, and being classed as a 
" noxious animal," with a price actually put on his 
head by utilitarian legislators. 



THOUGH kangaroo were plentiful, they were not so 
overwhelming in number as they have since become. 
Joe Burge and I had many a day's good sport 
together on foot. Like Mr. Sawyer and other 
sensible people, we often saved our horses by using 
our own legs. For the dogs, Chase was a rough- 
haired Scotch deerhound, not quite pure, yet had she 
great speed and courage. Nothing daunted her. I 
saw her once jump off a dray, where she was in 
hospital with a broken leg (it had been smashed 
by the kick of an emu), and hobble off after a 
sudden-appearing kangaroo. She was said to have 
killed a dingo at ten months old — no trifling feat. 

Nero and Violet were brother and sister. They 
were smooth-haired greyhounds — the ordinary kan- 
garoo dog of the colonist — very fast ; and from a 
distant cross of " bull " had inherited an utter 
fearlessness of disposition, which was rather against 
them, as the sequel will show. 

Violet was so fast that she could catch the brush 
kangaroo (the wallaby) within sight. We rarely had 


occasion to search if they started close to our feet, 
and the largest and fiercest " old man " forester did 
not seem to be too heavy weight for her. When he 
stood at bay she would fly in at the throat, instead 
of looking out for a side chance. In consequence 
she was awfully cut up many times when a more 
cunning dog would have escaped scatheless. 

One afternoon Joe and I had taken a longer 
round than usual on foot, and were returning by the 
beach, when we heard Violet's bark a long way in 
front. We knew then that she had " stuck up " or 
brought to bay a large forester. If middle-sized she 
would have killed him ; in that case running mute. 
So it was an " old man " large enough to stand and 

" We'd better get on, sir," said Joe ; " the poor 
slut'll be cut to ribbons. She's a plucky little fool, 
and don't know how to save herself." 

On we went, both running our best. We were 
in decent wind, but it was a couple of miles before 
we reached " hound and quarry." Some time had 
elapsed, and the fight had been many times renewed. 
When we got up the grassy spot was trampled all 
around, and in more than one place were deep red 
stains. Both animals were dreadfully exhausted. 
The great marsupial — the height of a tall man 
when he raised himself on his haunches — was 
covered with blood from the throat and breast, 
his haunches were deeply pierced by the dog's 
sharp fangs, but his terrible claws had inflicted 
some frightful gashes adown Violet's chest and 
flanks. As she feebly circled round him, barking 
hoarsely, she staggered with weakness ; but her 


eye was bright and keen — there was not a shade 
of surrender about her. 

Joe rushed in at once and struck the old man 
full between the eyes with a heavy stick. He fell 
prone, and lay like a log. Violet staggered to his 
throat, which she seized, but, having not another 
grain of strength, fell alongside of him, panting 
and sobbing until her whole frame shook convulsed. 
I never saw a dog suffer so much from over-exertion. 
There was water near, and we carried her to it and 
bathed her head and neck. She had three terrible 
gashes, the blood from which we could not manage 
to stanch. Joe was genuinely affected. The tears 
came into his eyes as he looked on the suffering 
creature. " Poor little slut ! " he said ; " I'm doubtful 
it's her last hunt. Pity we hadn't took the horses, 
we should ha' bin up sooner, and saved that old 
savage from ' mercy-creeing ' of her. Anyhow, I'll 
carry her home and see what the missis can do 
for her." 

He did so. I walking sadly behind, the dumb 
brute looking up at him with grateful eyes, and from 
time to time licking his hand. She was nursed by 
Mrs. Burge like a child. We tried all our simple 
remedies, sewed up the gaping wounds, and even 
went to the length of a tonic, suited to her 
condition. But it was of no use. The loss of 
blood and consequent exhaustion had been too 
great. Violet died that night, and for the next 
few days a gloom fell over our little household as 
at the death of a friend. 

A curious spot, in some respects, was that which 
I had pitched on — full of interest and variety. The 


river ran in front of our hut-door, losing itself in wide 
marshes that marked its entrance to the sea. It was 
a capital natural paddock, as at a distance of five or 
six miles the River Hopkins ran parallel to it towards 
the sea. Neither river was fordable, except at certain 
points, easily protected. Across the upper portion 
was a fence, running from river to river, and some 
ten miles from the sea, put up by the Messrs. 
Bolden, when this was one of their extensive 
series of runs, and, indeed, known as the bullock 

Warrnambool, as I before stated, was as yet 
unborn. There was not an allotment marked or 
sold, a hut built, a sod turned. No sound in 
those days broke upon the ear but the ceaseless 
surge-music ; no sight met the eye but the endless 
forest, the sand-hills, and the long, bright plain of 
the Pacific Ocean, calm for the most part, but 
lashed to madness in winter by furious south- 
easterly gales. Its jetties and warehouses, mayor 
and municipal council, villas and cottages, fields 
and gardens, were still in the future. Nought to be 
seen but the sand-dunes and surges; little to be 
heard save the sea-bird's cry. But at the old 
whaling station of Port Fairy the town of Belfast 
— so named by the late Mr. James Atkinson — 
had arisen, and its white limestone walls afforded 
a pleasing contrast to the surrounding forest. It 
lay between the mouth of the River Moyne and 
the sea. An open roadstead, suspiciously garnished 
with wrecks, told a talc of the harbour which afforded 
a larger element of truth than invitation. 

Chief among the pioneers were Messrs. John 


Griffiths and Co., who had, for many years, main- 
tained extensive whaling stations on the coast 
between Port Fairy and Portland. 

Captain Campbell, then and long after widely 
known as Port Fairy Campbell, was their principal 
superintendent of fleets and fisheries, farms and 
stores. He, in the pre-land-sale days, like John 
Mostyn, " bare rule over all that land " ; and, 
moreover, if legends are true, " on those who 
misliked him he laid strong hand." His sway 
was for many a league of sea and shore un- 
questioned, and no " leading case " will carry down 
his memory to budding barristers. He never, 
however, relinquished his faith in prompt personal 
redress, and years aftenvards, when harbour-master 
in Hobson's Bay, regretted to me that the etiquette 
of the civil service forbade him to convince a 
contumacious shipmaster by the simple whaling 
argument. Among his lieutenants, John and 
Charles Mills held the highest traditional rank. 
The brothers, natives of Tasmania, were splendid 
men physically, and as sailors no bolder or better 
hands ever trod plank or handled oar. 

Years afterwards I made one of a crowd assembled 
on the Port Fairy beach to watch a vessel encounter- 
ing at her anchors the fury of a south-easterly gale. 
A wild morning, I trow ; the sky red-gloomy with 
storm-clouds ; the fierce tempest beating down the 
crests of the leaping eager billows ; the air full of a 
concentrated wrath which prevented all sounds save 
its own from being audible. 

It was impossible that the barque could ride 
the gale out, and, in anticipation, the skipper 


had all his sails bent and merely made fast with 

The supreme moment came. After a hurricane- 
blast which transcended all former air-madness, we 
saw the vessel quit her position. A hundred voices 
shouted, " Her anchors are gone ! " In an instant, 
as it seemed to us, every sail was unfurled, and she 
swung round, with her stem towards the white line 
of ravening breakers. We had before us the unusual 
spectacle of a ship with every stitch of canvas set 
going before the wind, and such a wind, dead on to 
a lee shore. 

Proudly and swift she came gallantly on, while 
we watched, half-breathless, to see her strike. A 
sudden pause, a total arrest. The good ship 
struggled for a space, like a sentient creature in 
the toils, then broached to, and the wild, triumphant 
waves broke over her from stem to stern. 

But the situation had been foreseen. A dozen 
willing hands dragged out one of the whaleboats, 
and what sea ever ran which a whaleboat could not 
live in ? She was safely, though with desperate 
exertion, launched, and we soon watched her rising 
and falling amid the tremendous rollers that came 
thundering in. At her stern was the tall form of 
Charley Mills standing unmoved with a 1 6-foot 
steer oar in his strong grasp, one of the grandest 
exhibitions of human strength, skill, and courage 
that eyes ever looked on. 

The skipper had carried out his immediate 
purpose successfully. He had run his vessel in 
comparatively close, by charging the beach at the 
pace which he had put on ; and in successive trips 


of the whaleboat the crew were landed in safety. 
And though the barque's " ribs and trucks " added 
another unprepossessing feature to Port Fairy 
harbour, no greater loss occurred. 

Captain John Mills, afterwards harbour -master 
of the port of Belfast, and long a master mariner in 
the trade between Belfast and Sydney, was the 
elder of these two brothers. In his way, also, a 
grand personage. Not quite so tall as his younger 
brother, he was fully six feet in height, powerfully 
built, and a very handsome man to boot. There 
was an expression of calm courage about his face 
and general bearing which always reminded one of 
a lion. He had had, doubtless, as a whaler and 
voyager to New Zealand and the islands, scores of 
hairbreadth escapes. After such a stormy life it 
must have been a wondrous change to settle down, 
as he did, quietly for the rest of his days in the 
little village as harbour-master. He is gone to his 
rest, I think, as well as the grand, stalwart boat- 
steerer. They will always live in men's minds, I 
doubt not, on the west coast of Victoria, among the 
heroes of the storied past. I remember once, 
indeed, at a great public dinner, when a popular 
squatter, whose health had been drunk, declared 
with post-prandial fervour that he regarded all the 
inhabitants of old Port Fairy as his brothers. 
During a lull in the cheering, a humorous mercan- 
tile celebrity placed his hand on Charles Mills's 
shoulder, and cried aloud, " This is my brother 
Charley" — a practical application which brought 
down the house. 

Ah ! those were indeed the good old days. 


How free and fresh was the ocean's breath as one 
looked westward over the limitless Pacific, where 
nothing broke the line of vision nearer than Lady 
Julia Percy Island! How green was the turf! 
How blue the sky ! How strong and unquestioning 
was friendship ! How divine was love " in that lost 
land, in that lost clime " — in the realm of poesy and 
the kingdom of youth ! 

Port Fairy certainly had the start in life, and 
Belfast was, as I have narrated, a townlet before an 
acre of land was sold in Warrnambool. But it 
turned out that Warrnambool was situated in nearer 
vicinity to the wonderfully rich lands of Farnham 
and Purnim. The great wheat and potato yields 
began to affect shipments, and at this day I rather 
fancy nearly all the mercantile prosperity has taken 
lodgings with Warrnambool, while the broad, lime- 
stone-metalled streets of Belfast are less lively than 
they were wont to be a score of years agone. 

To the Johnny Griffiths dynasty succeeded that 
of Mr. John Cox, the younger, of Clarendon, 
Tasmania, a worthy scion of a family which had 
furnished, perhaps, more pattern country gentlemen 
to Australia than any other. He had quitted 
Tasmania for the western portion of the new colony, 
which promised wider scope for energy and enter- 
prise. His earlier investments were a trading 
station at Port Fairy, the purchase of such town 
allotments and buildings as seemed to him likely 
bargains, and the first occupation of the Mount 
Rouse station, long afterwards known as perhaps 
the choicest, richest run of a crack district. 

Mr. Cox, however, relinquished his not wholly 


congenial mercantile task to the late Mr. William 
Rutledge, of Farnham Park, whose commercial 
talent and business energy soon made quite another 
place of Belfast. Mr. Cox from that time forth 
devoted himself wholly to pastoral pursuits, and 
having been unhandsomely evicted from Mount 
Rouse, which the Governor, without much practical 
wisdom, wished to turn into an aboriginal reserva- 
tion, he retired to Mount Napier, a run only second 
in extent and quality. 

I may mention that some years after, the 
Government, finding that the aboriginal protectorate 
system merely served to localise gangs of lazy and 
mischievous savages without any sort of benefit to 
themselves or others, revoked the reserve. But 
instead of handing back the land to those from 
whom it had been taken unjustly, they had the 
meanness to let it by tender. This run of Mount 
Rouse brought a rental of £900 per annum, a price 
altogether unprecedented in the history of pastoral 

After I had been a dweller on the banks of the 
Merai for a few months, I resolved to move farther 
westward, where there was country to spare and a 
more favourable opportunity of getting an extensive 
run than in my present picturesque but restricted 
locality. I was grieved to lose my pretty and 
pleasant home just as I had begun to get attached 
to it, but I judged rightly that to the westward lay 
the more profitable pastures, and I adhered to my 

A few days' muster saw us once more on the 
road. Our herd was increased and complicated by 


the presence of many small calves, of ages varying 
from a week to three months. These tender 
travellers would have much retarded our march 
under other circumstances. But we had not, as 
luck would have it, much more than fifty miles to 
move, and for that short distance we could afford 
to travel easily, and give time to the weaker ones. 
All our worldly goods were packed upon the dray, 
which, as before, sufficed to carry them. 



By this time the winter rains had commenced to 
fall. The wild weather of the western coast, with 
fierce gales from the south-east, and driving storms 
of sleet, showed clearly that " the year had turned." 
The roads were knee-deep in mud, the creeks full, 
the nights long and cold. However, grass was 
plentiful, and 

Little cared we for wind or weather, 
When Youth and I lived " there " together. 

So away. Vogue la galcre. The dray, with Joe 
Burge and his wife, and Chase, the deerhound, went 
on ahead, while I, with Mr. Cunningham, a new 
companion, who had dwelt in those parts before my 
arrival, was to follow a day or two later with the 

I had made a small exploring expedition a short 
time before in company with an old stockman ; he, 
for a consideration, had guided me to a tract of 
unoccupied country. And to this new territory our 
migration was now tending. This experienced 
stock-rider — "an old hand from the Sydney side," 



as such men were then called in Victoria — was a 
great character, and a most original personage. He 
accompanied the dray, so that all might be in 
readiness for our arrival. Not that much could be 
done. But my all-accomplished chief servitor, the 
most inventive and energetic pioneer possible, would 
be sure to make some " improvements " even in the 
short interval before we arrived. 

Our first day's journey was most difficult. The 
cattle were loath to leave the spot to which they had 
become accustomed, and were troublesome to drive. 
However, with two good stock-whips, and the aid 
of Dora the cattle-dog, we got along, and reached 
Rosebrook, on the Moyne, close to Belfast. Mr. 
Roderick Urquhart, as manager for Mr. James 
Atkinson, was then in charge. He received us 
most hospitably. The cattle were put into the 
stock-yard for the night. My companion rode on 
to town, intending to rejoin me early in the morning. 

One may judge of the difficulty in " locating " 
tenants upon agricultural land in those early days 
from the fact that Mr. Urquhart was then supplying 
the first farmers on the Belfast survey with rations. 
For the first year or two this plan was pursued ; 
after that they were able, doubtless, to keep them- 
selves and pay the moderate rent under which they 
sat. Not that the Port Fairy " survey " was so fertile 
as that of Farnham Park — much of it was wet and 
undrained, much stony, and but fit for pasture ; but 
it comprehended the greater part of the town of 
Belfast, and ,£5000 would not be considered dear 
now for 5000 acres, chiefly of first-class pasture 
land, comprising, besides a seaport town, an exhaust- 

iv DUNMORE 35 

less quarry of limestone, a partially navigable river, 
and a harbour. 

I slept ill that night, oppressed by my responsi- 
bilities. At midnight I heard the continuous lowing, 
or " roaring " in stock-riders' vernacular, which de- 
noted the escape of my cattle from the yard. 
Dressing hastily, I stumbled in pitch darkness 
through the knee -deep mud. It was even as I 
feared — the rails were down, trampled in the mud ; 
the cattle were out and away. My anxiety was 
great. The paddock was insecure. If they got 
out of it there was endless re-mustering, delay, and 
perhaps loss. 

I could do nothing on foot. I heard the uneasy 
brutes trampling and bellowing in all directions. I 
went to bed sad at heart, and, like St. Paul's crew 
at Malta, " wished for the dawn." 

With the earliest streak of light I caught my 
horse, and galloped round the paddock without a 
sight of the missing animals. In despair I turned 
towards the shore of the large salt-water lagoon 
which made one side of the enclosure. In the grey 
light I fancied I saw a dark mass at the end of a 
cape, which stretched far into it. I rode for it at 
full speed, and discovered my lost " stock-in-trade " 
all lying down in the long marshy grass. They 
had struck out straight for their last known place of 
abode, but had been blocked by the deep water and 
the unknown sea — as doubtless the lagoon appeared 
to them in the darkness. 

Shortly after breakfast we resumed our journey, 
and made St. Kitts, a cattle station some ten or 
twelve miles on the western side of Belfast. The 


Messrs. Aplin were there, having taken it up a year 
before. The stock-yard was more substantial, as 
became a cattle station. Our hosts were cultured 
and refined people, not long from England ; like 
myself, enthusiastic about pastoral pleasures and 
profits. All our work lay ahead. How bright was 
the outlook ! how dim and distant the shoals and 
quicksands of life's sea ! We sat long into the 
night, talking a good deal of shop, not wholly 
unmingled with higher topics. I remember we 
decided that cattle stations were to improve in 
value, and ultimately lead to a competence. How 
little could we foresee that the elder brother was to 
die as resident magistrate at Somerset — an unborn 
town in an unknown colony — and the younger, 
after nearly thirty years' unsuccessful gold-mining, 
from Suttor's Mill to Hokitiki, was to make a 
fortune in tin at Stanthorpe ! That the writer — 
bah ! " Fate's dark web unfolded, lying," did not 
keep him from the soundest sleep that night ; and 
we again made a successful morning start. 

The start was good, but the day was discouraging. 
The cattle were safe enough in the new yard, though 
rather bedraggled after twelve hours of mud up to 
their knees. However, there was water enough 
where they were going to wash them up to the 
horns, and the grass was magnificent. The rain 
came down in a way that was oppressive to our 
spirits. The sky was murky ; the air chilling. 
Our whips soon became sodden and ineffective. 
My companion had a bad cold, which deprived him 
of all of his voice and most of his temper. The dog 
Dora would hardly bark. Worse than all, the track 

iv DUNMORE 37 

was difficult to find. We drove hard for hours, 
doubting much whether we had not lost our way. 
My comrade was sure of it. And 

It was about the filthy close 
Of a most disgusting day, 

as a somewhat irreverent poetaster hath it, when we 
disputed in the gathering gloom as to whether or 
not we were miles distant from Dunmore — our port 
of refuge — or had really hit off the right track. 
My friend, in hoarse boding tones, commenced to 
speculate as to how we should pass the night under 
a steady rainfall, and how many miles off, in different 
directions, the cattle would be by morning. My 
answer was simple but effective — " There's the horse- 
paddock ! " It was even so. Straining my eyes, I 
had caught sight through the timber of a two-railed 
sapling fence. It was enough. Paddocks were not 
then five miles square, and as likely to be twenty 
miles from the homestead as one. Dear labour and 
limited credit militated against reckless outlay in 
posts and rails. A ioo-acre enclosure for horses 
and working bullocks was all that was then deemed 
necessary. To see the paddock was to see the 

A considerable " revulsion of feeling " took place 
with both of us as we slogged the tired cattle round 
the fence and came in view of the old Dunmore 
homestead, then considered one of the best improved 
in the district. To be sure, it would not make much 
show now beside Burrabogie or Groongal, let alone 
Ercildoune or Trawalla, and a few others in the 
west. But then some of the shepherd kings thought 


it no dishonour to sleep in a watch-box for a month 
at a time, and a slab gunyah with a fold of hurdles 
was held to be sufficient improvement for a medium 
sheep station. At Dunmore there were three sub- 
stantial slab huts with huge stone chimneys, a pisi- 
work dairy, a loose-box for Traveller, the son of 
Camerton, as well as a large milking-yard and cow- 
shed. A great dam across the River Shaw provided 
an ornamental sheet of water. 

The season was, as I have stated, verging on 
midwinter. The day was wet. The drove of 
milkers passing and repassing had converted the 
ground outside of the huts, which were protected by 
the paddock fence, into a sea of mud, depth from 
one foot to two feet. Through this we approached 
the yard. If I live to be a hundred I shall never 
forget the sight which now met my astonished eyes. 
A gentleman emerged from the principal building in 
conspicuously clean raiment, having apparently just 
arrayed himself for the evening meal. He proceeded 
calmly to wade through the mud-ocean until he 
reached the yard, where he took down the clay- 
beplastered rails, leaving the gate open for our cattle. 
I declare I nearly fainted with grateful emotion at 
this combination of self-sacrifice with the loftiest 
ideal of hospitality. We had never met before 
either ; but long years of after-friendship with James 
Irvine only enabled me to perceive that it was the 
natural outcome of a generous nature and a heart 
loyal to every impulse of gentle blood. 

Another night's mud for the poor cattle. But I 
reflected that the next day would see them enfran- 
chised, and on their ,pwn " run." So, dismissing the 

iv DUN MO RE 39 

subject from my mind, I followed my chivalrous host 
to the guests' hut — a snug, separate building, where 
we made our simple toilettes with great comfort and 
satisfaction. After some cautious walking on a 
raised pathway we gained the " house," where I was 
introduced to Messrs. Campbell and Macknight — for 
the firm was a triumvirate. 

Dwelling in a drought-afflicted district across the 
border, where for months the milk question had 
been in abeyance, or feebly propped up by the 
imported Swiss product, and where butter is not, 
how it refreshes one to recall the great jug of cream 
which graced that comfortable board, the pats of 
fresh butter, the alluring short-cake, the baronial 
sirloin. How we feasted first. How we talked 
round the glowing log-piled fire afterwards. How 
we slept under piles of blankets till sunrise. 

Mrs. Teviot, the housekeeper, peerless old Scottish 
dame that she was (has not Henry Kingsley im- 
mortalised her ?) ; for how many a year did she 
provide for the comforts of host and guest unap- 
proachably, unimpeachably. How indelibly is that 
evening imprinted on my memory. Marked with a 
white stone in life's not all-cheerful record. On 
that evening was commenced a friendship that only 
closed with life, and which knew for the whole of its 
duration neither cloud nor misgiving. If a man's 
future is ever determined by the character of his 
associates and surroundings at a critical period of 
life, my vicinity to Dunmore must have powerfully 
influenced mine. In close, almost daily, association 
with men of high principle, great energy, early 
culture, and refined habits, I could not fail to gain 


signal benefit, to imbibe elevated ideas, to share 
broad and ennobling ideas of colonisation. 

As soon as we could see next morning the cattle 
were let out and " tailed " on the thick, rich pastur- 
age, which surrounded every homestead in those 
good old days. After breakfast I set out to find 
my station ; that is, the exact spot where it had 
pleased my retainers to camp. I found them about 
seven miles westward of Dunmore, on a cape of 
lightly -timbered land which ran into the great 
Eumeralla marsh ; a corresponding point of the lava 
country, popularly known as The Rocks, jutted out 
to meet it. On this was a circular pond -like 
depression, where old Tom, my venerable guide and 
explorer, had in a time of drought once seen a dingo 
drinking. He had christened it the Native Dog 
Hole — a name which it bears to this day. And at 
the Doghole-point had my man Joe Burge com- 
menced to fell timber for a brush-yard, put up the 
walls of a sod hut, unpacked such articles as would 
not suffer from weather, and generally commenced 
the first act of homestead occupation. I was greeted 
with enthusiasm. And as Old Tom the stock-rider 
was at once despatched to Dunmore to bring over 
the cattle, with Mr. Cunningham, my friend and 
travelling companion, I hobbled out my charger and 
proceeded to inspect my newly-acquired territory. 



Pride and successful ambition swelled my breast 
on that first morning as I looked round on my run. 
My run ! my own station ! How fine a sound it 
had, and how fine a thing it was that I should have 
the sole occupancy — almost ownership — of about 
50,000 acres of " wood and wold," mere and marsh- 
land, hill and dale. It was all my own — after a 
fashion — that is, I had but to receive my squatting 
license, under the hand of the Governor of the 
Australias, for which I paid ten pounds, and no 
white man could in any way disturb, harass, or 
dispossess me. I have that first license yet, signed 
by Sir Charles Fitzroy, the Governor-General. It 
was a valuable document in good earnest, and many 
latter-day pastoralists with a " Thursday to Thurs- 
day " tenure would be truly glad to have such 
another. There were no free-selectors in those days. 
No one could buy land except at auction when once 
the special surveys had been abrogated. There 
were no travelling reserves, or water reserves, or 
gold-fields, or mineral licenses, or miners' rights, or 


any of the new-fangled contrivances for letting the 
same land to half a dozen people at one and the 
same time. 

There was nothing which some people would con- 
sider to be romantic or picturesque in the scenery on 
which I gazed. But the " light which never was 
on sea or shore" was there, to shed a celestial glory 
over the untilled, unfenced, half- unknown waste. 
Westward stretched the great marshes, through which 
the Eumeralla flowed, if, indeed, that partially sub- 
terranean stream could be said to run or flow any- 
where. Northward lay the lava -bestrewn country 
known as the Mount Eeles rocks, a mass of cooled 
and cracked lava now matted with a high thick 
sward of kangaroo grass, but so rough and sharp 
were the piles and plateaux of scoria that it was 
dangerous to ride a horse over it. For years after 
we preferred to work it on foot with the aid of dogs. 

On the south lay open slopes and low hills, with 
flats between. On these last grew the beautiful 
umbrageous blackwood, or native hickory, one of the 
handsomest trees in Australia. At the back were 
again large marshes, with heathy flats and more 
thickly-timbered forests. Over all was a wonderful 
sward of grass, luxuriant and green at the time I 
speak of, and quite sufficient, as I thought, for the 
sustenance of two or three thousand head of mixed 

There were no great elevations to be seen. It 
was one of the "low countries" in a literal sense. 
The only hill in view was that of Mount Eeles, which 
we could see rising amid the lava levels a few miles 
to the north-west. The marshes were for the most 


part free from timber. But a curious formation of 
" islands," as the stock-rider called them, prevailed, 
which tended much to the variety and beauty of the 

These were isolated areas, of from ten to one 
hundred acres, raised slightly above the ordinary 
winter level of the marshes. The soil on these 
" islands " was exceptionally good, and, from the 
fact of their being timbered like the ordinary main- 
land, they afforded an effective contrast to the miles 
of water or waving reeds of which the marshes con- 
sisted. They served admirably also for cattle camps. 
To them the cattle always retired at noonday in 
summer, and at night in winter and spring-time. 
One " island," not very far from our settlement, was 
known as " Kennedy's island," the gallant ill-fated 
explorer who had surveyed a road to the town of 
Portland some years before my arrival having made 
his camp there. How far he was to wander from 
the pleasant green west country, only to die by the 
spear of a crouching savage, within sight of the ship 
that had been sent to bring him safely home after 
his weary desert trail ! 

We didn't know anything of the nature of dry 
country in those days. All the land I looked upon 
was deep-swarded, thickly-verdured as an English 
meadow. Wild duck swam about in the pools and 
meres of the wide misty fen, with its brakes of tall 
reeds and " marish-marigolds " — " the sword-grass and 
the oat-grass and the bulrush by the pool." Over- 
head long strings of wild swan clanged and swayed. 
There were wild beasts (kangaroo and dingoes), 
Indians (blacks, whose fires in " The Rocks " we 


could see), a pathless waste, and absolute freedom and 
independence. These last were the most precious 
possessions of all. No engagements, no office work, 
no fixed hours, no sums or lessons of any kind or 
sort. I felt as if this splendid Robinson Crusoe kind 
of life was too good to be true. Who was I that I 
should have had this grand inheritance of happiness 
immeasurable made over to me ? What a splendid 
world it was, to be sure ! Why did people ever 
repine or complain ? I should have made short 
work of Mr. Mallock, and have settled the argument 
" Is life worth living ? " had it then arisen between 
us, with more haste than logic. Action, however, 
must in colonisation never fail to accompany con- 
templation. To which end I returned to our camp, 
just in time to partake of the simple, but appetising, 
meal which Mrs. Burge had prepared for us. 

Cold corned beef, hot tea, and a famous fresh 
damper, the crust of which I still hold to be better 
than any other species of bread whatever, when 
accompanied, as in the case referred to, with good, 
sweet, fresh butter. How splendid one's appetite 
was after hours spent in the fresh morning air. How 
complete the satisfaction when it all came to an end. 

Then commenced a council of war, in which Joe 
Burge was a leading spokesman. " Old Tom can 
look after the cattle. Mr. Cunningham and I will 
go and fell a tree. I know one handy that'll run 
out nigh on a hundred slabs, and if you'll bring up 
the bullocks and dray to the stump, sir, to-night, 
we'll have a load of slabs ready to take home." 

What was the next thing that was necessary to 
be done? 


To build a house. 

At present we were living under a dray. Now, 
a dray is not so bad a covering at night, when 
extremely sleepy and tired, but in daylight it is 
valueless. And if it rains — and in the west it often 
did, and I am informed does still, though not so 
hard as it did then — the want of a permanent shelter 
makes itself felt. 

The walls of a sod hut were indeed already up. 
Clean-cut black cubes, rather larger than bricks, when 
new and moist, make a neat, solid wall. In little 
more than a day we had a thatched roof completed, 
so that we were able to have our evening meal in 
comfort, and even luxury. A couple of fixed bed- 
steads were placed at opposite corners, in which Mr. 
Cunningham and I arranged our bedding. Joe 
Burge and his wife still slept under the " body " of 
the dray, while Old Tom had a separate section 
allotted to him under the pole. 

But the " hut," of split slabs, with wall-plate top 
and bottom, and all the refinements of bush car- 
pentry, was to be the real mansion. And at this 
we soon made a commencement. I say we, because 
I drove the bullocks and carted the slabs to the site 
we had pitched on, besides doing a bit of squaring 
and adzing now and then. 

Joe Burge and Mr. Cunningham (who was an 
experienced bushman, and half a dozen other things 
to boot) soon " ran out " slabs enough, and fitted the 
round stuff, most of which I carted in, preferring that 
section of industry to the all-day, every-day work of 
splitting. Old Tom looked after the cattle. They 
needed all his attention for a while, displaying, as 


they did, a strong desire to march incontinently back 
to the banks of the Merai. 

In two or three weeks the hut was up. How I 
admired it ! The door, the table, the bedsteads, the 
chairs (three-legged stools), the washstand, were all 
manufactured by Joe Burge out of the all-sufficing 
" slab " of the period. A wooden chimney with an 
inner coating of stone-work worked well without 
smoking. The roof was neatly thatched with the 
tall, strong tussock-grass, then so abundant. 

Our dwelling transcended that of the lowland 
Scot, who described his as " a lairge hoose wi' twa 
rooms intil't," inasmuch as it boasted of three. One 
was the atrium — being also used as a refectory — and 
chief general apartment. The rest of the building 
was bisected by a wooden partition, affording thus 
two bedrooms. One of these was devoted to Joe 
Burge and family, the other I appropriated. Mr. 
Cunningham and Old Tom slept in the large room, 
where — firewood being plentiful — they kept up a 
roaring fire, and had rather the best of it in the cold 
nights which then commenced to visit us. 

Excepting a stock-yard, there now remained next 
to nothing to do, and being rather overmanned for 
so small a station, Mr. Cunningham, with my free 
consent, elected to take service with the Dunmore 
firm, with whom he remained for some years after. 
I had now attained the acme of worldly felicity. I 
had always longed to have a station of my own. 
Now I had one. I had daily work of the kind that 
exactly suited me. I went over to Dunmore and 
spent a pleasant evening every now and then, rubbing 
up my classics and having a little " good talk." I 


had a few books which I had brought up with me in 
the dray — Byron, Scott, Shakespeare (there was no 
Macaulay in those days), with half a score of other 
authors, in whom there was pabulum mentis for a 
year or two. I had, besides, the run of the Dunmore 
library — no mean collection. 

So I had work, recreation, companionship, and 
intellectual occupation provided for me in abundant 
and wholesome proportion. What else could cast a 
shadow over my prosperous present and promising 
future ? Well, there was one factor in the sum 
which I had not reckoned with. " The Amalekite 
was then in the land," and with the untamed, un- 
tutored pre-Adamite it appeared that I was fated to 
have trouble. 

The aboriginal blacks on and near the western 
coast of Victoria — near Belfast, Warrnambool, and 
Portland — had always been noted as a breed of 
savages by no means to be despised. They had 
been for untold generations accustomed to a dietary 
scale of exceptional liberality. The climate was 
temperate ; the forests abounded in game ; wild- 
fowl at certain seasons were plentiful ; while the sea 
supplied them with fish of all sorts and sizes, from a 
whale (stranded) to a whitebait. No wonder that 
they were a fine race, physically and otherwise — the 
men tall and muscular, the women well-shaped and 
fairly good-looking. To some even higher commend- 
ation might with truth be applied. 

One is often tempted to smile at hearing some 
under-sized Anglo-Saxon, with no brain power to 
spare, assert gravely the blacks of Australia were the 
lowest race of savages known to exist, the connect- 


inc link between man and the brute creation, etc. 


On the contrary, many of the leading members of 
tribes known to the pioneer squatters were grandly- 
formed specimens of humanity, dignified in manner, 
and possessing an intelligence by no means to be 
despised, comprehending a quick sense of humour, as 
well as a keenness of perception, not always found 
in the superior race. 

Unfortunately, before I arrived and took up my 
abode on the border of the great Eumeralla mere, 
there had been divers quarrels between the old race 
and the new. Whether the stockmen and shepherds 
were to blame — as is always said — or whether it 
was simply the ordinary savage desire for the tempt- 
ing eoods and chattels of the white man, cannot be 
accurately stated. Anyhow, cattle and sheep had 
been lifted and speared ; blacks had been shot, as a 
matter of course ; then, equally so, hut-keepers, 
shepherds, and stockmen had been done to death. 

Just about that time there was a scare as to the 
disappearance of a New South Wales semi-civilised 
aboriginal named Bradbury. He was a daring 
fellow, a bold rider, and a good shot. As he occasion- 
ally stayed at the native camp, and had now not 
been seen for a month, it began to be rumoured that 
he had agreed to accept the leadership of the 
outlawed tribes against the whites. In such a case 
the prospects of the winter, with thinly -manned 
homesteads eight or ten miles apart, looked de- 
cidedly bad. 

However, the discovery of poor Bradbury's bones 
a short time afterwards set that matter at rest. He 
always took his gun with him, distrusting — and with 


good reason — his trans-Murray kin. On this occasion 
they " laid for him," it seems, and by means of a sable 
Delilah, who playfully ran off with his double-barrel, 
took him at a disadvantage. He fought desperately, 
we were told, even with a spear through his body, but 
was finally overpowered. Just before they had killed 
and chopped up a hut-keeper, and at Mount Rouse 
they had surprised and killed one of Mr. Cox's men, 
the overseer — Mr. Brock — only saving himself by 
superior speed of foot, for which he was noted. 

I was recommended by my good friends of Dun- 
more and others of experience to keep the blacks 
at a distance, and not to give them permission to 
come about the station. 

Being young and foolish — or, let me say, un- 
suspicious — I chose to disregard this warning and to 
take my own way. I thought the poor fellows had 
been hardly treated. It was their country, after all. 
A policy of conciliation would doubtless show them 
that some of the white men had their good at heart. 

To the westward of our camp lay the great tract 
of lava country before mentioned. This had been 
doubtless an outflow in old central-fire days from 
the crater of Mount Eeles. Now, cooled, hardened, 
cracked, and decomposed, it annually produced a rich 
crop of grass. It was full of ravines, boulders, masses 
of scoria, and had, besides, a lakelet in the centre. 
It was many miles across, and extended from Mount 
Eeles nearly to the sea. 

It was not particularly easy to walk in. And, as 
for riding, one day generally saw the end of the 
most high-couraged, sure-footed horse. As a natural 
covert for savages it could not be surpassed. 



In this peculiar region our " Modocs lay hid." 
We could see the smoke of their camp fires in toler- 
able number, but had no means of seeing or having 
speech of them. One day, however, having probably 
sent out a scout previously who had made careful 
examination of us while we were totally unconscious 
of any such supervision, they debouched from the 
rocks and came up to camp. They sent a herald in 
advance, who held up a green bough. Then, " walk- 
ing delicately," they came up, in number nearly fifty. 
I was at home, as it happened, as also was the old 
stockman. How well I remember the day and the 
scene ! 

We all carried guns in those days, as might the 
border settlers in " Injun " territory. 



We had been informed that the Eumeralla people, 
when that station was first taken up by Mr. Hunter 
for Hughes and Hoskins, of Sydney, always took 
their guns into the milking-yard with them, for fear 
of a surprise. The story went that one day a sudden 
attack " was " made. While the main body was 
engaged, a wing of the invading force made a flank 
movement, and bore down upon the apparently 
undefended homestead. There, however, they were 
confronted by Mr. William Carmichael, a neighbour 
of Falstaffian proportions, who stood in the doorway 
brandishing a rusty cutlass which he had discovered. 
Whether the blacks were demoralised by the appear- 
ance of the fattest man they had ever seen, or awe- 
stricken at the fierceness of his bearing, is not known, 
but they wheeled and fled just as their main army 
had concluded to fall back on Mount Eeles. 

Of Messrs. Gorrie and M'Gregor (uncle and 
nephew), who were chief among the Eumeralla 
pioneers, having come down with the original herd 
of ITH cattle, with which the run was first occupied, 


many tales are told. The former, a stalwart, iron- 
nerved, elderly Scot, was the envied possessor of a 
rifle of great length of barrel and the deadliest 
performance. The coolness of its owner under fire 
(of spears) was a matter of legendary lore. 

In a raid upon the heathen, shortly after an 
unprovoked murder on their part, two aboriginals 
bolted out of their cover immediately in front of Mr. 
Gorrie. Running their best, and leaping from side 
to side as they went, the nearer one made frantic 
signs to the effect that the other man was the real 

" Bide a wee," quoth the calm veteran, as the 
barrel of the old rifle settled to its aim. " Bide a 
wee, laddie, and I'll sort ye baith." Which the 
legend goes on to say he actually did, disposing of 
the appellant at sight, and knocking over the other 
before he got out of range of la longue carabine. 

One day Mr. M'Gregor was returning through 
disturbed country. While discovering " Injun sign " 
to be tolerably plain and recent, his horse at speed 
fell under him, and rolled over, a tremendous cropper. 
He picked himself up, and, going over to the motion- 
less steed, found that he was stone dead — he had 
broken both forelegs and his neck. A moment's 
thought, and he picked up the saddle and bridle, 
and, thus loaded, ran the seven or eight miles home 
at a pace which Dcerfoot would have respected. 

Things went on prosperously for some months. 
" The hut," a substantial and commodious structure, 
arose in all its grandeur. It boasted loopholes on 
either side of the huge, solid chimney, built out of 
the cube-shaped basaltic blocks which lay around in 


profusion. So we were prepared for a siege. A 
stock-yard was the next necessity ; to split and put 
up this important adjunct, without which we had no 
real title to call ourselves a cattle station, was imper- 
ative. " Four rails and a cap," as the description 
ran, of the heavy substantial fence then thought 
necessary for the business, were to be procured. 
The white-gum timber, though good enough in a 
splitting sense for slabs, was not the thing for stock- 
yard work. So, as we knew by report from the 
" Eumeralla people " that there was a tract of stringy- 
bark forest about eight miles south of us towards the 
coast, we determined to get our timber there. The 
bushman who had put up the Eumeralla huts — one 
Tinker Woods, an expatriated gipsy, it was said, 
whom therefore I regarded with great interest — had 
marked some trees which would serve to guide us. 
Joe Burge thought he could manage the rest. 

The "round stuff" we could cut close about. 
But the heavy rails, nine feet in length, from three to 
five inches thick, and as straight as a board paling, 
we had to get from the forest. As Mr. Cunningham 
had gone, and the old stockman, Tom, had quite 
enough to do minding the cattle, the work fell on 
Joe Burge and myself. 

This is how it was managed. At daylight we 
started one Monday morning, taking the dray and 
team, with maul and wedges, crosscut saw and axes, 
bedding, blankets, and a week's rations, not forgetting 
the guns. When we got to the forest, after finding 
the Tinker's Tree (it bore the name years after) — an 
immense stringy bark, with a section of the outside 
wood split down to see if the grain was free — we 


soon pitched upon a " good straight barrel," and set 
to work. Joe cut a good-sized "calf" in it first, and 
then we introduced the crosscut. I had got through 
a reasonable amount of manual exercise, and had 
more than one spell, when the tall tree began to 
sway, and, as we drew back to the right side of the 
stump, came crashing down, flattening all the lighter 
timber in its way. 

" Now, sir," quoth Joe, " you give me a hand to 
crosscut the first length. There'll be two more after 
that. Them I'll do myself, and now we'll have a 
pot of tea. You can take the team home, and come 
back the day after to-morrow. I'll have a load of 
rails ready for you." 

We had our meal in great comfort and contentment. 
Then I started off to drive the team back. At sunset 
I saw the thatched roof of our hut. I had walked 
sixteen miles there and back, besides helping to fell 
our tree, and unyoking the team afterwards. 

I slept soundly that night. I drove the team 
back to the forest on the day named, and found Joe 
perfectly well and contented, having split up the 
whole of the tree into fine, straight, substantial rails, 
thirty of which were put upon the dray. After 
helping to cut down another tree, I departed on my 
homeward journey. 

On Saturday the same proceedings took place, 
and da capo until all the rails were split and drawn 
in. Joe must have felt pretty lonely at night, 
camped in a bark gunyah, with the black pillars of 
the stringy-bark trees around him, and not a soul 
within reach or ken. But he was not ot a nervous 
temperament — by wood or wold, land or sea, on foot 


or horseback, hand-to-hand fight, sword or pistol, it 
was all one to Joe. He was afraid of nothing and 
nobody. And when, years after, his son returned 
from India with the Queen's Commission and the 
Victoria Cross, I knew where the bold blood had 
come from. Towards the end of our wood-ranging, 
a rumour got abroad that the blacks had " broken 
out" and commenced to spear cattle. They had, 
moreover, " intromitted with the Queen's lieges," as 
Dugald Dalgetty would have said. Mr. Cunningham, 
riding through the greenwood at Dunmore, had had 
three spears thrown at him by blacks, one of which 
went through his hat. They then (he averred) dis- 
appeared into an " impenetrable scrub." Neighbours 
talked of arming and going out in force to expostulate, 
if this kind of thing was to go on. 

I told Joe of this, and brought a message from 
Mrs. Burge to say that Old Tom, who knew the 
blacks well, was getting anxious, that he must not 
stay away any longer, but had better come home 
with me. 

Joe agreed generally, but said there was one 
lovely, straight tree that he must run out, and if I 
would help him fell this, he would come directly it 
was finished. I tried to persuade him, but it was 
useless. So we " threw " the tree, and loaded up. I 
started home again alone. 

Now the tree was a large tree ; the load heavier 
than usual. My departure was late in consequence, 
and the moon rose before I had half finished my 
homeward journey. To add to my trouble I got 
into a soft spot in the marsh road, and in the alterca- 
tion one of my leaders, a hot-tempered animal, slued 


round and " turned his yoke." Gentlemen who have 
driven teams will understand the situation. The 
bows were by this manoeuvre placed on the tops of 
the bullocks' necks, the yoke underneath, and the 
off-side bullock became the near-side one. I was 
nearly in despair. I dared not unyoke them, because 
they, being fresh, would have bolted and left me 
helpless. So I compromised, and started the team, 
finding that by keeping pretty wide of my leaders 
and behaving with patience they would keep the 
track. The road was moderately open, and they 
knew they were going home. 

At one part of the road I had to pass between 
two walls of ti-tree, a tall kind of scrub through 
which I could not see, and which looked in the 
moonlight very dark and eerie. I began to think 
about the blacks, and whether or no they might 
attack us in force. At that very moment I heard 
a wild shrill cry, which considerably accelerated the 
circulatory system. 

I sprang to the gun, which lay alongside of the 
rail, just within the side-board of the dray. " I will 
sell my life dearly," I said to myself; " but oh ! if it 
must be — shall I never see home again ? " As I 
pulled back the hammer another cry, hardly so shrill 
— much more melodious, indeed, to my ears — sounded, 
and a flock of low-flying dark birds passed over my 
head. It was the cry of the wild swan ! I was not 
sorry when I saw the hut fire, and drew up with my 
load near the yard. I had some trouble with my 
leader, the off-side bullock not caring to let me 
approach him, as is the manner of his kind. But I 
got over the difficulty, and dealt out retributive 


justice by letting him and his mate go in their yoke, 
and postponing further operations to daylight. 

Mrs. Burge was most anxious about her husband, 
and inveighed against his foolishly putting his life in 
jeopardy for a few rails. Old Tom laughed, and 
said as long as Joe had a good gun he was a match 
for all the blacks in the country, if they did not take 
him by surprise. 

" We're going to have a bit of trouble with these 
black varment now," he said, filling his pipe in a 
leisurely way. " Once they've started killing cattle 
they won't leave off in a hurry. More by token, 
they might take a fancy to tackle the hut some day 
when we're out." 

" You leave me a gun, then," said Mrs. Burge, 
"and I'll be able to frighten 'em a bit if I'm left 
by myself. But sure, I hardly think they'd touch 
me after all the flour and bits of things I've given 
the lubras." 

" They're quare people," said the old stockman, 
meditatively ; " there's good and bad among 'em, 
but the divil resave the blackfellow I'd trust nearer 
than I could pull the trigger on him, if he looked 

I said little, being vexed that my policy of con- 
ciliation had been of no avail. I roused myself, 
however, out of a reverie on the curious problem 
afforded by original races of mankind, foredoomed to 
perish at the approach of higher law. 

" They have not touched any of our cattle yet," 
I said ; " that shows they have some feeling of 

" I wouldn't say that," answered the old man, 


" I missed a magpie steer to-day, and I didn't see 
that fat yellow cow with the white flank. Thim's 
a pair that's always together, and I seen all the 
leading mob barrin' the two." 

"We must have a hunt for them to-morrow," 
I said, " and the sooner Joe comes in the better, 
Mrs. Burge." 

" Yes, indeed," said that resolute matron, casting 
a glance at the cradle where lay a plump infant not 
many weeks old ; " and is there any other man in 
the country that would risk his life for a load of 
stock-yard rails ? Not but it's elegant timber ; only 
he might think of me and the baby." 

The argument was a good one, so next day I 
went out and forcibly brought away Joe and a final 
cargo of rails, though to the last he asserted " that 
we were spoiling the yard for the sake of another 
week's splitting." 

I may here state that we got our stock-yard up 
in due time. It was seven feet high, and close 
enough — a rat could hardly get through. My share 
was chiefly the mortising of the huge posts, which 
afforded considerable scope for amateur execution, 
by reason of their size and thickness. If the yard 
is still standing — and nothing less than a stampede 
of elephants would suffice to level it — I could pick 
out several of " my posts " with unerring accuracy. 
" God be with those days," as the Irish idiom runs ; 
they were happy and free. I should like to be 
drafting there again — if the clock could be put back. 
But life's time-keeper murmurs sadly with rhythmic 
pendulum, " Never — for ever : for ever — never ! " 
All of a sudden war broke out. The reasons for 


this last resource of nations none could tell. The 
whites only wished to be let alone. They did not 
treat the black brother unkindly. Far from it, 
There were other philanthropists in the district 
besides myself, notably Mr. James Dawson, of 
Kangatong, then known as Cox's Heifer Station, 
distant about twenty miles to the east. Then, as 
now, my old friend and his amiable family were 
most anxious to ameliorate his condition. They fed 
and clothed the lubras and children. They even 
were sufficiently interested to make a patient study 
of the language, and to acquire a knowledge of tribal 
rites, ceremonies, and customs, which has lately been 
embodied in a valuable volume, praised even by the 
super -critical Saturday Review. It is a fact, not 
altogether without bearing on the historical analysis 
of pioneer squatting, that four of us — rude colonists, 
as most English writers persist in believing all 
Australian settlers to be — were, in greater or less 
degree, authors. 

Charles Macknight had a logically clear and 
trenchant way of putting things. As a political 
and social essayist he attracted much attention 
during the latter years of his life. His theories 
of stock-breeding, culled from contemporary journals, 
are still prized and acted upon by experienced 
pastoralists. Of the two brothers Aplin, the elder 
was a lover of scientific research, and, having a 
strong natural taste for geology, addressed himself 
to it with such perseverance that he became second 
only to Mr. Selwyn, the late Victorian Government 
geologist, a man of European reputation, and was 
himself enabled to fill the position of Government 


geologist for Northern Queensland. His brother 
Dyson was a poet of by no means ordinary calibre. 
Mr. Dawson's book is now before the public, 
and the present writer has more than one 
book or two to his credit, which the public 
have been good enough to read, and reviewers to 

Before I begin my history of the smaller Sepoy 
Rebellion, I must introduce Mr. Robert Craufurd, 
younger, of Ardmillan, a brother of the late Lord 
Ardmillan. This gentleman dwelt at Eumeralla 
East, a subdivision of the original run, which, in my 
time, was the property of the late Mr. Benjamin 
Boyd. The river divided the two runs. Messrs. 
Gorrie and M'Gregor had acquired Eumeralla West, 
with its original homestead and improvements, by 
what we should call in the present day something 
very like " jumping." However, I had no better claim 
to the Doghole-point, which was a part of the old 
Eumeralla run — as indeed was Dunmore and all the 
country within twenty or thirty miles — if the original 
occupant of that station was to be believed. The 
commissioner — the gallant and autocratic Captain 
Fyans — settled the matter, as was the wont of those 
days, by his resistless fiat. He " gave " Messrs. 
Gorrie and M'Gregor the western side of the 
Eumeralla, with the homestead and the best fattening 
country. He restricted Mr. Boyd to the eastern side 
of the river, giving him his choice, however. That 
was the reason why Tinker Woods had to build new 
huts ; and he eventually allotted to me Squattlesea 
Merc, and its dependencies, as far as the Doghole- 
point, though my friend, Bob Craufurd, on behalf 


of his employer, strove stoutly to have me turned 

Mr. Craufurd, like other cadets of good family, 
had somewhat swiftly got rid of the capital which he 
imported, and, for lack of other occupation, accepted 
the berth of manager of Eumeralla East for Mr. 
Boyd, and a very good manager he was. A fine 
horseman, shrewd, clear-headed, and energetic on 
occasion, he did better for that enterprising ill-fated 
capitalist than he ever did for himself. He and the 
Dunmore people were old friends and schoolfellows. 
So, it may be guessed that we often found it con- 
venient to exchange our somewhat lonely and 
homely surroundings for the comparative luxury and 
refinement of Dunmore. What grand evenings we 
used to have there ! 

He was a special humourist. I often catch my- 
self now laughing at one of " Craufurd's stories " — 
an inveterate practical joker, a thorough sportsman, 
a fair scholar, and scribbler of jeux d'esprit, he was 
the life and soul of our small community. He once 
counterfeited a warrant, which he caused to be served 
on Mr. Cunningham for an alleged shooting of a 
blackfellow. Even that bold Briton turned pale 
(and a more absolutely fearless man I never knew) 
when he found himself, as he supposed, within the 
iron gripe of the law. 

We were all pretty good shots. For one reason 
or other the gun was rarely a day out of our hands. 
We were therefore in a position to do battle effect- 
ively for our homesteads and means of subsistence if 
these were assailed. Between my abode and the sea 
was but one other run — a cattle station. Sheep 


were in the minority in those days. It was occupied 
by two brothers — the Messrs. Jamieson — Scots also ; 
they seemed to preponderate in the west. Their run 
rejoiced in the aspiring title of Castle Donnington. 
It was rather thickly timbered, possessed a good deal 
of limestone formation, and had a frontage to Darlot's 
Creek, an ever-flowing true river which there ran into 
the sea. 



Mr. LEARMONTH had taken up Ettrick and Ellan- 
gowan, a few miles higher up on the same creek, 
about the same time that I " sat down " on the 
Lower Eumeralla. This gentleman, since an officer 
of high rank in the volunteer force, had lately come 
from Tasmania, whence he brought some valuable 
blood mares, with which he founded a stud in after 
years. The cattle run comprised a good deal of lava 
country. It was there that Bradbury, the civilised 
aboriginal before mentioned, met his death. All the 
land that lay between Eumeralla proper and the sea, 
a tract of country of some twenty or thirty miles 
square, had been probably from time immemorial a 
great hunting-ground and rendezvous for the sur- 
rounding tribes. It was no doubt eminently fitted 
for such a purpose. It swarmed with game, and in 
the spring was one immense preserve of every kind 
of wild fowl and wild animal that the country owned. 
Among the Rocks there were innumerable caves, 
depressions, and hiding-places of all kinds, in which 
the natives had been used to find secure retreat and 


safe hiding in days gone by. Whether they could 
not bear to surrender to the white man these 
cherished solitudes, or whether it was the short- 
sighted, childish anxiety to possess our goods and 
chattels, can hardly ever be told. Whatever the 
motive, it was sufficient, as on all sides at once 
came tales of wrong-doing and violence, of maimed 
and slaughtered stock, of homicide or murder. 

Next day we saw the greater part of the cattle, 
but those particular ones that Old Tom had missed 
were not to be found anywhere. We were turning 
our horses' heads homewards when I noticed the 
eaglehawks circling around and above a circular 
clump of ti-tree scrub in a marsh. W'hile we looked 
a crow flew straight up from the midst of the clump, 
and we heard the harsh cry of others. The same 
thought evidently was in all our minds, as we rode 
straight for the place, and forced our horses between 
the thick -growing, slender, feathery points. In the 
centre, amid the tall tussac grass, lay the yellow 
heifer with the white flank, stone dead. A spear- 
hole was visible beneath the back ribs. Exactly on 
the corresponding portion of the other side was 
another, proving that, strange as it may seem, a 
spear had been driven right through her body. 
After Old Tom had concluded his exclamations and 
imprecations, which were of a most comprehensive 
nature, we agreed that the campaign had been 
opened in earnest, and that we knew what we had 
to expect. " We'll find more to-morrow," said the 
old man. " Onest they'll begin like this, they'll never 
lave off till thim villains, Jupiter and Cocknose, is 
shot, anyway." 


These strangely- named individuals had been 
familiar to our ears ever since our arrival. " Jupiter " 
was supposed to have a title to the head chieftain- 
ship of the tribe which specially affected the Rocks 
and the neighbourhood of the extinct volcano. 
Cocknose had been named by the early settlers from 
the highly unclassical shape of the facial appendage. 
He was known to be a restless, malevolent savage. 
Again on the war trail next morning, we tried beat- 
ing up and down among the paths by which the 
cattle went to water, at the lower portion of the 
great marsh. It may be explained that the summer 
of 1844 was exceptionally dry, and much of the 
surface water having disappeared, the cattle were 
compelled to walk in Indian file through the ti-tree, 
in many places more than ten feet in height, to the 
deeper portion of the marsh, where water was still 

Here Joe Burge hit off a trail, which seemed 
likely to solve the mystery. " Here they've been 
back and forward, and pretty thick too," he said, 
getting off and pointing to the track of native feet, 
plain enough in the swamp mud. 

" Cattle been here," said the old stockman, " and 
running too. Look at thim deep tracks. The 
thieves of the world, my heavy curse on them ! " 

As we followed on the trail grew broader and 
more plain. A few head of cattle had evidently been 
surrounded — two or more bullocks, we agreed, and 
several cows and calves, heading now in this direction, 
now in that. Presently half of a broken spear was 
picked up. We followed the track to a thick brake 
of reeds nearly opposite to a jutting cape of the lava 



country. There we halted. A new character was 
legible in the cipher we had been puzzling out. 

" They've thrown him here," said the old man. 
" Here's where he fell down. There's blood on that 
tuft of grass ; and here's the mark of the side of him 
in the mud. They've cut him up and carried him 
away into the Rocks, bit by bit — hide and horns, 
bones and mate. The divil resave the bit of Magpie 
ever we'll see again. There's where they wint in." 

Sure enough we saw a plainly-marked track, with 
a fragment of flesh, or a blood-stain, showing the 
path by which they had carried in a slaughtered 
animal. Further we could not follow them, as the 
lava downs were at this spot too rough for horses, 
and we might also have been taken at a disadvantage. 
So, on the second evening, we rode home, having 
found what we went out to seek, certainly, but not 
elated by the discovery. 

It now became a serious question how to bear 
ourselves in the face of the new state of matters. If 
the blacks persisted in a guerilla warfare, besides 
killing many of the best of our cattle, they would 
scatter and terrify the remainder, so that they would 
hardly stay on the run ; besides which, they held us 
at a disadvantage. They could watch our move- 
ments, and from time to time make sorties from the 
Rocks, and attack our homesteads or cut us off in 
detail. In the winter season much of the forest 
land became so deep and boggy that, even on horse- 
back, if surprised and overmatched in numbers, there 
would be very little chance of getting away. By this 
time the owners of the neighbouring stations were 
fully aroused to the necessity of concerted action. 


We had reached the point when " something must 
be done." We could not permit our cattle to be 
harried, our servants to be killed, and ourselves to 
be hunted out of the good land we had occupied by 
a few savages. 

Our difficulty was heightened by its being 
necessary to behave in a quasi -legal manner. 
Shooting blacks, except in manifest self-defence, had 
been always held to be murder in the Supreme 
Courts of the land, and occasionally punished 
as such. 

Now, there were obstacles in the way of taking 
out warrants and apprehending Jupiter and Cocknose, 
or any of their marauding braves, in the act. The 
Queen's writ, as in certain historic portions of the 
west of Ireland, did not run in those parts. Like 
all guerillas, moreover, their act of outrage took 
place sometimes in one part of a large district, 
sometimes in another, the actors vanishing mean- 
while, and reappearing with puzzling rapidity. 

We went now well armed. We were well 
mounted and vigilantly on guard. The Children 
of the Rocks were occasionally met with, when 
collisions, not all bloodless, took place. 

Their most flagrant robbery was committed on 
Mr. John Cox's Mount Napier station, whence a 
flock of maiden ewes was driven, and the shepherd 
maltreated. These young sheep were worth nearly 
two pounds per head, besides being impossible to 
replace. Mr. Cox told me himself that they con- 
stituted about a third of his stock in sheep at the 
time. He therefore armed a few retainers and 
followed hot on the trail. 


He had unusual facilities for making successful 
pursuit. In his house lived a tame aboriginal 
named Sou'wester, who had a strong personal 
attachment for Mr. Cox. Like most of his race, he 
had the true bloodhound faculty when a man-hunt 
was in question. He led the armed party, following 
easily the trampling of the flock in the long grass 
until they reached the edge of the Rocks. 

Into this rugged region the flock had been driven. 
Before long Sou'wester's piercing eye discovered signs 
of their having been forced along the rocky paths at 
the point of the spear. 

It was evident to him that they were making for 
the lake, which was in the centre of the lava country. 

By and by he pointed out that, by the look of 
the tracks, they were gaining upon the robbers. 
And shortly too sure an indication of the reckless 
greed and cruelty of the savage was furnished. 

Passing round an angular ridge of boulders, 
suddenly they came upon about a hundred young 
sheep, which had been left behind. " But why are 
they all lying down ? " said one of the party. 

The tracker paused, and, lifting a hind-leg of one 
of the helpless brutes, showed without speech that 
the limb was useless. 

The robbers had dislocated the hind-legs as a 
simple preventive of locomotion ; to insure their 
being in the same place when it should please their 
captors to return and eat them. 

" I never felt so wolfish in my life," said Mr. Cox 
to me, afterwards, " as when I saw the poor things 
turn up their eyes reproachfully as they lay, as if 
imploring our assistance." 


A few more miles brought them up with the 
main body. They opened fire upon the tolerably 
large body of blacks in possession, directly they 
came within range. 

"It was the first time I had ever levelled a gun 
at my fellow-man," John Cox remarked. " I did so 
without regret or hesitation in this instance. I 
never remember having the feeling that I could not 
miss so strong in me — except in snipe-shooting. I 
distinctly remember knocking over three blacks, two 
men and a boy, with one discharge of my double 

Sou'wester had a good innings that day, which 
he thoroughly enjoyed. He fired right and left, 
raging like a demoniac. One huge black, wounded 
to death, hastened his own end by dragging out his 
entrails, meanwhile praising up the weapons of the 
white man as opposed to those of the black. 
Sou'wester cut short his death-song by blowing out 
his brains with the horse-pistol of the period. 

A few of the front-rankers were shot on this 
occasion ; but most of the others saved themselves 
by precipitately taking to the lake. 

After this nothing happened for a while, until 
one day a good-sized party was discovered killing a 
bullock of Messrs. Jamieson, near Ettrick. The 
brothers Jamieson and Major Learmonth — then 
unknown to martial fame — went out to dispute title. 
The scene was in a reed-brake — the opposing force 
numerous. Spears began to drop searchingly amid 
and around the little party. It looked like another 
Isandula, and the swart foe crept ominously close, 
and yet more close, from tree to tree. 


Then a spear struck William Jamieson in the 
forehead — a rough straw hat alone saving his brain. 
The blood rushed down, and, dripping on his gun, 
damped the priming. 

Things looked bad. A little faltering had lost 
the fight. 

But the Laird of Ettrick shot the savage dead 
who threw the spear, and under cover of this 
surprise he and Robert Jamieson carried their 
wounded comrade safely out of the field. 

Among other experiments for the benefit of the 
tribe, I had adopted a small black boy. He was 
formally handed over to me by his grand-uncle, who 
informed me that his name was Tommy, and adjured 
me to " kick him plenty." With this thoughtful 
admonition from his only surviving male relative I 
did not trouble myself to comply, though it occurred 
to me subsequently that it was founded upon a 
correct analysis of boy nature generally, and of 
Master Tommy's in particular. So he was a good 
deal spoiled, and, though occasionally useful with 
the cattle, did pretty much as he liked, and vexed 
the soul of good Mrs. Burge continually. 

One night, when we had been on the run all day 
and had found the cattle much disorganised, we 
noticed an unusual number and brilliancy of fires at 
the black camp in the Rocks. We could generally 
see their fires in the distance at night, and could 
judge of the direction of the camp, though, owing to 
the broken nature of the ground, we did not seek to 
follow them up, unless when making a reconnaissance 
en force. 

On this particular night, however, something 


more than usual appeared to be going on. The 
dogs, too, were uneasy, and I could see that Old 
Tom appeared to be perturbed and anxious. 

" I wouldn't be putting it past them black divils 
to be makin' a rush some night and thryin' to burn 
the hut on us," he said gloomily. "If we lave them 
there, atin' and roastin' away at shins of beef and 
the hoighth of good livin', as they have now, they'll 
think we're afraid, and there'll be no houldin' them. 
Ye might get the gintlemen from Dunmore, and 
Peter Kearney, and Joe Betts, and Mr. Craufurd, 
from Eumeralla, and give them a fright out of that 
before they rise on us in rale arnest." 

" No, Tom," I said ; " I should not think that 
just or right. I believe that they have been killing 
our cattle, but I must catch them in the act, and 
know for certain what blacks they are, before I take 
the law into my own hands. As to driving them 
away from the Rocks, it is their own country, and I 
will not attack them there till they have done 
something in my presence to deserve it." 

" Take your own way," said the old man, sullenly. 
He lit his pipe, and said no more. 

That night, about midnight, the dogs began to 
bark in a violent and furious manner, running out 
into the darkness and returning with all the appear- 
ance of having seen something hostile and unusual. 
We turned out promptly, and, gun in hand, went out 
some distance into the darkness. The night was of 
a pitchy Egyptian darkness, in which naught was 
visible a hand's breadth before one. Once we heard 
a low murmur as of cautious voices, but it ceased. 
Suddenly the black boy, Tommy, who had crept a 


few yards farther, came tearing back past us, and 
raced into the hut, where, apparently in an agony of 
fear, he threw himself down among the ashes of the 
fireplace, ejaculating, " Wild blackfellow, wild black- 
fellow ! " to the great discomposure of Mrs. Burge. 

We fired off a gun to let them know that we 
were prepared, and separating so that we surrounded 
the hut on three sides of a front, and could retreat 
upon it if hard pressed, awaited the attack. 

It was rather an exciting moment. The dark 
midnight, the intense stillness, broken only by the 
baying of the dogs and the " mysterious sounds of 
the desert " ; the chance of a rush of the wild 
warriors, who, if unchecked at the onset, would 
obliterate our small outpost — all these ideas passed 
through my mind in quick succession as we stood to 
our guns, and shouted to them to come on. 

" But none answered." They probably came 
near, under cover of the darkness, and, true to their 
general tactics, declined to make an attack when the 
garrison was prepared. Had they caught us nap- 
ping, the result might have been different. This view 
of the subject was confirmed by something which 
happened a little while afterwards, and gave us a 
most apposite text on which to enlarge in our 
memorials to the Government. I happened to be 
away with Old Tom on a journey which took us 
more than a week. When I returned, " wonderful 
ashes had fallen on our heads," as Hadji Baba 
phrases it. Our homestead had been surprised and 
taken by the enemy. They had held possession of 
the hut for an hour or more, and cleared it of all 
that they regarded as valuable. Blood had not 


been spilled, but " it was God's mercy," Mrs. Burge 
said, " that she, and Joe, and the precious baby had 
not all been killed and murdered, and eaten, and all 
the cattle driven into the Rocks." I began to think 
that I would never go away again — certainly not 
for a few years — if adventures of this sort were 
possible in my absence. After a little blowing off 
of steam, on Old Tom's part, I gathered from the 
calmer narrative of Joe Burge the substance of the 



On the third day after our departure Joe and his 
wife were in the milking-yard finishing the morning's 
work, when suddenly Mrs. Burge, looking towards 
the road, exclaimed, " Good God ! the hut's full of 
blacks ! " Realising that her infant lay in his cradle 
in the front room, she rushed down, in spite of Joe's 
command to stay where she was while he confronted 
the enemy. 

" Sure, isn't the child there ? " she said. " And 
whether or not, mayn't you and I be as well killed 
together ? " 

Joe, having no sufficiently effective answer at 
hand, was fain to follow his more impetuous help- 
mate with what speed he might. When they 
arrived on the scene, they found about twenty or 
thirty blacks briskly engaged in pillaging the hut. 
They were passing and repassing from out the 
doorway, handing to one another provisions and 
everything which attracted their cupidity. 

Mrs. Burge, in her own words, first " med into 
the big room, and the first thing I seen was this 

chap, vin THE NATIVE POLICE 75 

precious baby on the floor, and him with the cradle 
turned upside down over him. It's a mercy he 
wasn't smothered ! I jostled the blackfellows, but 
none of them took any notice of me. When I got 
outside, who should I see but that little villain 
Tommy coming out of the dairy with something in 
his hand. I put down the child and riz the tin 
milk-dish off the meat-block and hit him over the 
top of the head with it. Down he drops like a 
cock. I caught hold of him by the hair, and tried 
to hold him down, but he was too slippery for me, 
and got up again. I thought worse of the ungrate- 
ful little villain than all the rest. Many's the good 
drink of milk he had in that same dairy, and now 
he comes an' lades on the blacks to rob the hut, and 
perhaps kill poor Joe, that never did him anything 
but good, and me and the baby." 

Said Joe Burge — " I went into the hut quiet-like, 
and seeing the old woman's monkey was up, after 
she got outside, gave her a strong push as if I was 
angry, and sent her back to the milking-yard. She 
wouldn't go at first, and I made believe to hit her 
and be very angry with her. This seemed to please 
the blacks, and they grinned and spoke to one 
another about it, I could see. I saw them carry out 
all the tea, sugar, and flour they could find. As far 
as I could make out, they were not set upon killing 
me or her. They seemed rather in a good humour, 
but I knew enough of blacks to see that the turn of 
a straw might make them change their tune. One 
fellow had my double gun, which was loaded ; he 
did not know much about the ways of a gun, which 
was lucky for us. He held up the gun towards me, 


and pulled the trigger. The hammers were up, but 
there were no caps on. I had taken them off the 
night before. When the gun wouldn't go off, he 
says, ' no good, no good,' and laughed and handed it 
to another fellow, who held it in one hand like a 
fire-stick. I saw they were out for a day's stealing 
only. I thought it was better not to cross them. 
They were enough to eat us if it came to that. So 
I helped them to all they wanted, and sent them 
away in good humour with themselves and me. By 
and by down comes the wife from the milking-yard, 
and she rises an awful pillaloo when she sees what 
they had took. About a hundredweight of sugar, 
a quarter-chest of tea, a half-bag of flour, clothes, 
and, worse than all, two or three silver spoons, with 
the wife's initials on, which she looked on as some- 
thing very precious. Master Tommy, who had put 
up the job to my thinking, cleared out with them. 
I saw them making a straight board for the rocks, 
toward the lake. I guessed they would camp there 
that night. As soon as they were well out of sight 
I catches the old mare and ripped over pretty quick 
to Dunmore. I saw Mr. Macknight, and told him, 
and he promised to make up a party next morning 
and follow them up, and see whether something 
might not be recovered. 

" Next morning, soon after sunrise, he, and Mr. 
Irvine, and Mr. Cunningham, and their stockman, all 
came riding up to the place. They left their horses 
in our paddock, and we went off on foot through 
the swamp, and over to the nearest point of the 

" We had all guns but me. Mr. Macknight and 


Mr. Irvine had rifles, Mr. Cunningham and the 
Dunmore stockman double -barrels. It was bad 
walking through the rocks, but after a mile or two I 
hit off their tracks by finding where they had 
dropped one or two little things they had stolen. 
The grass was so long and thick that they trod it 
down like as they were going through a wheat-field, 
so we could see how they had gone by that. 

" Well, after four or five miles terrible hard 
walking, we came in sight of the lake, and just on a 
little knob on the left-hand side, with a bit of flat 
under it, was the camp. I crept up, and could see 
them all sitting round their fires, and yarning away 
like old women, laughing away now and then. By 
George, thinks I, you'll be laughing on the wrong 
side of your mugs directly. 

" Well, I crept back and told the party, and we 
all began to sneak on them quietly, so as to be close 
on them before they had any notion of our being 
about, when Mr. Cunningham, who was a regular 
bull-dog for pluck, but awful careless and wild-like, 
trips over a big stone, tumbling down among the 
rocks, drops his gun, and then swears so as you 
could hear him a mile off. 

" All the dogs in the camp — they're the devil and 
all to smell out white men — starts a barkin'. The 
blacks jumps up, and, catching sight of the party, 
bolts away to the lake like a flock of wild duck. 
We gave 'em a volley, but it was a long shot, and 
our folks was rather much in a hurry. I didn't see 
no one tumble down. Anyway, between divin' in 
the lake, getting behind the big basalt boulders on 
the shore of the lake, and getting right away, when 


we got up the camp was bare of everything but an 
old blind lubra that sat there with a small child 
beside her, blinkin' with her old eyes, and grinnin' 
for all the world like one of the Injun idols I used 
to see in the squire's hall at home. Just as we got 
up, one fellow bolted out from behind a rock, and 
went off like a half-grown forester buck. Mr. 
Cunningham bangs away at him, and misses him ; 
then flings down his gun, and chivies after him like 
a schoolboy. He had as much chance of catching 
him as a collie dog has of running down an emu. 

" I couldn't hardly help bustin' with laughin' ; 
there was Mr. Cunningham, who was tremendous 
strong, but rather short on the leg, pounding away 
as if he thought he'd catch him every minute, and 
the blackfellow, a light active chap, spinning over 
the stones like a rock-wallaby — his feet didn't hardly 
seem to touch the ground. Then Mr. Macknight 
was afraid Mr. Cunningham might run into an 
ambush or something of that kind. ' Mr. Cunning- 
ham, Mr. Cunningham, come back ! I order you to 
come back ! ' Howsoever, Mr. Cunningham didn't 
or wouldn't hear him ; but, after awhile, the black- 
fellow runs clean away from him, and he come back 
pretty red in the face, and his boots cut all to pieces. 
We rummaged the camp, and found most of the 
things that were worth taking back. The flour, and 
tea, and sugar they had managed to get rid of. 
Most likely sat up all night and ate 'em right off. 
Blacks feed like that, I know. 

" But we got the gun and a lot of other things 
that were of value to us, as well as my wife's silver 
spoons, which she never stopped talk in' about, so I 


was very glad to fall across 'em. After stopping 
half an hour we made up all the things that could 
be carried, and marched away for home. It was a 
long way, and we were pretty well done when we 
got there. However, my old woman gave us a first- 
rate tea, and I caught the horses, and the gentlemen 
rode home. There's no great harm done, sir, that I 
know of, but it might have been a plaguy sight 
zvorse ; don't you think so, sir ? " 

I could not but assent to the proposition. The 
caprice of the savage had apparently turned their 
thoughts from blood revenge, though they " looted " 
the establishment pretty thoroughly. Another time 
worse might easily happen. We determined to keep 
good watch, and not to trust too much to the chapter 
of accidents. 

After half a ream of foolscap had been covered 
with representations to the Governor, in which I 
proudly hoped to convey an idea that our condition 
was much like that of American border settlers when 
Tecumseh and Massasoit were on the war-path, a 
real live troop of horse was despatched to our assist- 
ance. First came two of the white mounted police 
from Colac ; then a much more formidable contingent, 
for one morning there rode up eight troopers of the 
native police, well armed and mounted, carbine in 
sling, sword in sheath, dangling proper in regular 
cavalry style. The irregular cavalry force known as 
the Native Police was then in good credit and 
acceptation in our colony. They had approved 
themselves to be highly effective against their sable 
kinsmen. The idea originated in Victoria, if I mis- 
take not, and was afterwards developed in New 


South Wales, still later in Queensland. Mr. H. E. 
Pulteney Dana and his brother William were the 
chief organisers and first officers in command. They 
were principally recruited from beyond the Murray, 
and occasionally from Gippsland. They were rarely 
or never used in the vicinity of their own tribes. 
Picked for physique and intelligence, well disciplined, 
and encouraged to exercise themselves in athletic 
sports when in barracks, they were by no means to 
be despised as adversaries, as was occasionally dis- 
covered by white as well as black wrongdoers. 

Mounted on serviceable, well-conditioned horses, 
all in uniform, with their carbines slung, and steel 
scabbards jingling as they rode, they presented an 
appearance which would have done no discredit to 
Hodson or Jacob's Horse. Buckup, as non-commis- 
sioned officer, rode slightly in front, the others 
following in line. As I came out of the hut door 
the corporal saluted. " We been sent up by Mr. 
Dana, sir, to stop at this station a bit. Believe the 
blacks been very bad about here." 

The blacks ! This struck me as altogether lovely 
and delicious. How calm and lofty was his expres- 
sion ! I answered with decorum that they had, 
indeed, been very bad lately — speared the cattle, 
robbed the hut, etc. ; that yesterday we had seen the 
tracks of a large mob of cattle, which had been 
hunted in the boggy ground at the back of the run 
for miles. 

" They only want a good scouring, sir," quoth 
Buckup, carelessly, as he gave the order to dis- 

As they stood before me I had a good opportunity 


of observing their general appearance. Buckup was 
a fine-looking fellow, six feet high, broad shouldered 
and well proportioned, with a bold, open cast of 
countenance, set off with well-trimmed whiskers and 
moustache. He was a crack hand with the gloves, 
I heard afterwards, and so good a wrestler that he 
might have come off in a contest with Sergeant 
Francis Stewart, sometimes called Bothwell, nearly 
as satisfactorily as did Balfour of Burley. Tallboy, 
so called from his unusual height, probably, was a 
couple of inches taller, but slender and wiry looking ; 
while Yapton was a middle-sized, active warrior, with 
a smooth face, a high nose, heavy, straight hair, and 
a grim jaw. I thought at the time he must be very 
like an American Indian. The others I do not 
particularly recall, but all had a smart, serviceable 
look, as they commenced to unsaddle their horses and 
pile their arms and accoutrements, preparatory to 
making camp in a spot which I had pointed out 
to them. 

They spent the rest of the day in this necessary 
preliminary, and by nightfall had a couple of mia- 
mias solidly built with their backs to the sea wind, 
and neatly thatched with tussac grass from the 

During the afternoon Buckup held consultation 
with me, Joe Burge, and Old Tom, at the conclusion 
of which he professed himself to be in possession of 
the requisite information, and decided as to future 

Next morning, early, the white troopers and the 
blacks started off for a long day in the Rocks, on 
foot. It was almost impossible to take horses through 



that rugged country, and the police horses were too 
good to be needlessly exposed to lameness, and 
probably disablement. Long afterwards a trusty 
retainer of mine was betrayed into a hardish ride 
therein after an unusually tempting mob of fat cattle 
and unbranded calves, which had escaped muster for 
more than a year. The shoes of the gallant mare 
which he rode came off before the day was done. 
He was compelled to leave her with bleeding feet 
a mile from the edge of the smooth country, bringing 
out the cattle, however, with the aid of his dogs. 
Next day we went back to lead her out, but poor 
Chilena was as dead as Britomarte. 

So, lightly arrayed, the black troopers stole through 
the reeds of the marsh, in the dim light of a rainy 
dawn, and essayed to track the rock-wolves to their 
lair. Camps they found, many a one, having good 
store of beef bones at all of them, but the indigenes 
were gone, though signs of recent occupation were 
plentiful. An outlying scout had " cut the track " 
of the trooper's horses, and "jaloused," as Mr. Gorrie 
would have said, only too accurately what was likely 
to follow. Anyhow, the contingent returned tired 
and rather sulky after sundown, with their boots 
considerably the worse for wear. I did not myself 
accompany the party, nor did I propose to do so at 
any other time. I took it for granted that blood 
might be shed, and I did not wish to be an eye-witness 
or participator. The matter at issue was now grave 
and imminent. Whether should we crush the un- 
provoked c'meute, or remove the remnant of our stock, 
abandon our homesteads, and yield up the good land 
of which we had taken possession ? 


It would hardly have been English to do the 
latter. So we had nothing for it but to make the 
best fight we could. 

A fresh reconnaissance was made daily from my 
homestead, sometimes in one direction, sometimes in 
another. But though rumours were heard of their 
appearance in different and distant parts of the district, 
no actual sight of the foe could be accomplished. 
Buckup and his men-at-arms, after the first day, 
were very patient and cheerful about the matter. 
They played quoits, of which I had a set — wrestled 
and boxed during their leisure hours, shot kangaroo 
and wild duck, and generally comported themselves 
as if this sort of thing was all in the day's work. 
Meantime, the heavy winter rains had begun to fall 
and the marshes to fill ; the forest became so satu- 
rated that horses could hardly be ridden over it in 
places. I had occasion to go to Belfast for a couple 
of days on business. When I returned I found that 
a regular engagement had taken place the day 
before, the result of which would probably be 

Neither of my men had been out, as it happened, 
but they had gleaned their information from the white 
troopers, and very sparingly from Buckup. Beyond 
saying that they had come up with the main body of 
the tribe and given them a scouring, he was disposed 
to say but little. 

On this particular day an expedition had been 
made to a " heathy," desolate tract of country which 
lay at " the back " of the run. Here were isolated 
marshes covered with rushes, and for the most part 
surrounded with belts of tall ti-tree scrub. Between 


these were sand-hills with a thick, sheltering growth 
of casuarina and banksia, while here and there grew 
copses of mimosa and blackwood, the Australian 
hickory. Here, it seems, the police were plodding 
along, apparently on their usual persistent but 
unavailing search, when suddenly one of the men 
pulled up, dismounted, and, picking up something, 
gave a low, sibilant whistle. In an instant the whole 
troop gathered around him, while he held up a small 
piece of bark which had quite recently been ignited. 
Not a word was said as Yapton took the lead, at 
a sign from Buckup, and the rest of the black troopers 
followed in loose order, like questing hounds, examin- 
ing with eager eyes every foot of the way. Shortly 
afterwards a tree was discovered where, with a few 
fresh cuts of a tomahawk, a grub had been taken 
out of the hollow wood. The trail had been struck. 

Patiently for several hours the man -hunters 
followed up the tracks, while fresh signs from time 
to time showed that a large body of blacks had quite 
recently passed that way. Suddenly, at a yell from 
Yapton, every man raised his head, and then rode at 
full speed towards a frantic company of savages 
as, startled and surprised, they made for a patch of 

The horses fell and floundered from time to time 
in the deep, boggy soil, but their desperate riders 
managed to lift and hustle them up as the last black 
disappeared in the ti-trce. Unluckily for them, the 
scrub was not a large one, and the ground on either 
side comparatively clear. 

Buckup sent a man to each corner, and himself 
with two troopers charged into the centre. Spears 


began to fly, and boomerangs ; but the wild men had 
little chance with their better- armed countrymen. 
Out bolts a flying fugitive, and makes for the nearest 
reed-bed. Tallboy is nearest to him, and his horse 
moves as he raises his carbine, and disturbs the aim. 
Striking him savagely over the head with the butt 
end, he raises his piece, fires, and Jupiter drops on 
his face. Quick shots follow, a general stampede 
takes place, but few escape, and when the troop turn 
their horses' heads homeward, all the known leaders 
of the tribe are down. They were caught red- 
handed, too, a portion of a heifer and her calf freshly 
slaughtered being found on the spot where they were 
first sighted. 

Such was the substance of the tale as told to me. 
It may have been more or less incorrect as to detail, 
but Jupiter and his associate with the unclassical 
profile were never seen alive again ; and as no head 
of stock was ever known to be speared or stolen 
after that day, it may be presumed that the chastise- 
ment was effectual. Years afterwards a man showed 
me the cicatrix of a bullet-wound in the region of 
the chest, and asserted that " Police-blackfellow 
' plenty kill him ' " on that occasion. He further 
added that he promptly, upon recovery, hired himself 
as a shepherd to " old man Gorrie," as he disrespect- 
fully termed that patriarch, being convinced that 
lawless proceedings were likely to bring him to a 
bad end. 

This would seem to have been the general 
opinion of the tribe. After due time they came in 
and made submission, working peaceably and use- 
fully for the squatters, who were only too glad to 


assist their efforts in the right path. Many years 
afterwards the remnant of the tribe was gathered 
together and " civilised " at the missionary station of 
Lake Condah, a fine sheet of water at the western 
extremity of the lava country, and less than twenty 
miles from the scene of the proceedings described. 
There the black and half-caste descendants of the 
once powerful Mount Eeles tribe dwell harmlessly 
and happily, if not usefully to the State. A resident 
of the district informed me some time since that a 
black henchman of mine lived at the Mission, and 
was last seen driving some of his kinsfolk in a buggy. 
Tommy had taken advantage of his opportunities, 
moreover, for he sent a message of goodwill and 
remembrance to me, further intimating that if I 
would write to him lie would answer my letter ! 
Such is the progress of civilisation ; but, with all 
good wishes for the success of the experiment, I do 
not anticipate permanently valuable results. 

When Tommy and I swam the Leigh together, 
one snowy day, bound for Ballarat with fat cattle, I 
suspect he was employed in a manner more befitting 
to his nature, and more improving to his general 



Our border ruffians being settled with for good and 
all, we pioneers were enabled to devote ourselves to 
our legitimate business — the breeding and fattening 
of cattle. For this industry the Port Fairy district 
was eminently fitted, and at that time — how different 
from the present ! — sheep and wool were rather at a 
discount. Of course, some men had sufficient fore- 
sight and shrewdness to back the golden fleece, but 
their experiences were not encouraging. 

The heavy herbage and rich soil of the West 
tended lamentably to foot-rot. The flocks seemed 
to be in a state of chronic lameness. The malady 
either reduced wool increase and condition to a 
point considerably below zero, or necessitated the 
employment of such a number of hands in applying 
bluestone and butyr of antimony (the remedies of the 
period), that the shearing subsidy was considerably 
encroached on. 

Then there was " Scab " — word of dread and hate- 
fulness, herald of ruin and loss, of endless torment 
to all concerned, of medicated dippings, dressings, 


deaths and destructions innumerable ; the dreadful 
multiplication of station hands, who assisted with 
cheerful but perfunctory effort, patently disbelieving 
in " any species of cure," and looking on the whole 
affair — disease, dressing, and dipping — as a manifest 
dispensation of Providence for the sustentation of the 
" poor man." 

When all had been done that could be done by 
the proprietor in his desperate need, a single sheep 
straying among the straggling flocks, or reintroduced 
by a careless or malignant station hand (and the 
latter crime is alleged to have been more than once 
committed), was sufficient to undo a year's labour. 
Then the distracting, expensive task had to be 
commenced de novo. 

In those days, too, when fencing was not ; when 
the shepherds comprised, perhaps, the very worst 
class of labour in the colonies, it may be guessed 
how hard and anxious a life was that of the western 
Victorian sheepowner. 

His neighbour, too, was but too often his natural 
enemy. A careless flockholder might supply a 
nucleus of contagion from which a whole district 
would suffer. This state of matters continued 
until the gold discoveries, when the shepherds 
having mostly withdrawn themselves, and a com- 
pulsory admixture of flocks taking place, scab spread 
throughout the length and breadth of Victoria. 
What its cost to the Government and to private 
persons was before it was finally stamped out would 
be difficult, very difficult, to find out — so large a sum 
that it would have paid all concerned ten times, a 
hundred times over, to have purchased all infected 

ix KILFERA 89 

stock at, say, ^5 per head, only to have cut the 
throats of and cremated the lot. 

" Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth " 
is a scriptural aphorism strictly applicable to acarian 
development. Many a well-to-do sheepholder was 
burnt out of house and home by the quick-spreading 
ovine leprosy which germinated at a friend's care- 
lessly-ordered establishment. So that it came to 
pass that the " Gallants of Westland " were loath to 
exchange the free roving lives of cattle -tending 
caballeros for the restricted, " pokey," worrying round 
of duties to which the sheepholders seemed doomed. 
At one of our gatherings, at which — the majority 
being cattle-men — a toast involving a little indirect 
self-laudation was duly honoured, a pioneer squatter 
from a distance remarked gravely, " How little you 
fellows can realise what a life we have been leading 
in our district the last year or two ! " He had just 
finished " cleaning " his flocks, as had also his neigh- 
bours. He certainly looked, as the financial survivor 
of a drought expressed it once, as though he had 
" come through the Valley of the Shadow." 

When we rubbed along thus jovially, deeming 
life to be " a great and glorious thing," fat cows 
were well sold at £2 per head, and bullocks at 
£3. Certainly you could buy stores (or, as they 
primevally called them, "lean cattle") at from 10s. 
to 1 6s., prices which left a margin. The Messrs. 
Manifold bought a large number of bullocks from 
the Shelleys, of Tumut, at the latter price, some- 
where about the year 1845. How they fattened at 
Purrumbeet and Leura may be imagined ! They 
fetched top prices, but were not thought to pay so 


well as the early ripening station-breds, on which the 
3M brand was thenceforth chiefly placed. 

I became possessed of a herd of a thousand head 
about the same time, which I took " on terms," as 
the arrangement was thus called — a convenient one 
for beginners with more country than capital, and vice 
versa. I was to have one-third of the increase, and 
to be paid ten per cent upon all sales of fat cattle. 
They were to be " personally conducted " by me 
from the Devil's River — a place uncanny sounding, 
but not otherwise objectionable. They were the 
property of Messrs. Curlewis and Campbell ; the 
first-named gentleman arranged preliminaries with 
me in town, and in a few days I again started 
from Melbourne with high hopes and three stock- 

Our route lay over country that has since 
become historical. One half of the herd was 
located at Strathbogie, and through those forest- 
clothed solitudes and adown the steep shoulder of 
the leading range had we to drive our unwilling 
cattle. It was on that occasion that I made 
acquaintance with my good, warm-hearted friend 
Charles Ryan — then a gay young bachelor living 
at Kilfera, on the Broken River. We met at an 
extremely small, not to say dismal hut at Strath- 
bogie, already inhabited by Messrs. Joe Simmons, 
Salter, and Hall, who, together with my men and 
myself, were constrained to abide therein till the cattle, 
weak and low after their drive from the head of the 
Abercrombie in New South Wales, were mustered. 

" Come along over with me and let them muster 
the cattle themselves, you have only to take delivery," 

ix KILFERA 91 

was his highly natural salutation {i.e. natural to 
Charles Ryan), and I came along accordingly. 

Kilfera station was a comfortable bachelor home- 
stead, and it struck me, as I saw it for the first 
time, that it had a distinctly " Galway " look about 
it. The hospitality was free and unstinted. I was 
not the only guest. As we rode up we came upon 
a match at quoits, the players at which wore the 
air of non-combatants. There was a fine upstanding 
son of Peter Fin, " Modderidderoo " by name, in the 
stables ; on the next day I was shown the very 
panel where Mr. Jack Hunter had jumped " The 
Badger " over a three-railed fence, without bridle or 

" We saw him coming up the paddock," said my 
host (he had gone down to catch his horse and taken 
no bridle with him), " at a swinging hand-gallop, 
and all turned out of the verandah to look. He 
had only a switch in his hand ; when he came 
to the creek he took it at a fly, and then faced the 
three -railed fence at the stable. He went over 
here — over this very rail — and came down sitting as 
square as if he was riding in the park, holding his 
hat, too, in both hands." " How did he stop the 
horse ? " " He jumped off on the straw heap here, 
and fell on his legs like a cat." I had a slight pre- 
vious acquaintance with the gentleman referred to, 
whose whilom sobriquet of " Jack the Devil " was 
fully deserved, as far as feats of horsemanship 
were concerned. He rode equally well in a side- 
saddle, and once at least defied the minions of the 
law decorously attired in a lady's riding habit, with 
hat, gloves, and whip to match. 


To complete the " wild sports of the West " 
flavour with which my fancy had invested Kilfera, 
entered to us that night, travelling with horses, 
one Mr. Crowe, evidently of kin to the " three 
Mr. Trenches of Tallybash," popularly known as 
" mad Crowe." Slightly eccentric to an unprejudiced 
observer he appeared to be. He was a tall, fair- 
haired, athletic fellow, and he had not been half 
an hour in the house before, after gifting all his 
horses with impossible qualities and improbable pedi- 
grees, he offered to row, wrestle, ride, drink, or fight 
any one of the company for a liberal wager. He 
finished off the evening's entertainment by volunteer- 
ing and going outside to execute an imitation of an 
Irish " keen " at a wake, a performance which was 
likely to have cost him dear, as it offended the 
sensibilities of several of the station hands, who were 
strongly minded to arise and " hammer " him (Crowe) 
for belittling their native land. " How happily the 
days of Thalaba went by " at Kilfera ; indeed, I 
regarded with complacency the somewhat protracted 
muster of the Strathbogie herd. However, one fine 
day they were mustered and counted out to me, 
mixed with the Devil's River contingent ; blacks 
and brindles, yellows and strawberries, snaileys and 
poleys, old and young, they were " a mixed herd " 
in every sense. But cattle were cattle in those days. 
So I bade farewell to my kind friend and pleasant 
acquaintances, and took the road for Port Fairy — 
four hundred miles or so. But an odd hundred 
leagues of a journey was nothing then. How the 
country must have altered since those days. No 
Bcechworth diggings — Castlemaine, Sandhurst, and 

ix KILFERA 93 

Ballarat all in the " forest primeval " stage, innocent 
of cradle and pick, windlass and bucket. Quartz 
indeed ! The first time it was mentioned in my 
hearing was by James Irvine, who was chaffing 
Captain Bunbury about the quality of his run on 
the Grampians, and averring that the only chance 
of his cattle getting fat was in the event of their 
being able to live on quartz. Quartz, quotha ! I 
hardly knew what it meant, save that it was a kind 
of rock. Heavens ! Could I have foreseen how 
closely it was to be interwoven with my destiny — 
with all our destinies, for the matter of that ! 

It was the autumn season, and the way was 
pleasant enough, after we left the sunless glens and 
darksome mountain - sides of Strathbogie. We 
passed Seven Creeks homestead, then, or somewhat 
later, the property of Mr. William Forlonge. He, 
like the rest of us, did not know when he was well 
off, and must move northward evermore, towards 
the great Saltbush Desert, that false Eldorado, which, 
like the loadstone mountain in the Arabian tale, has 
attracted and ruined so many a life, swallowed how 
many a fortune ! However, nil desperandum is 
his motto ; and if fortune favours the brave, the plucky 
veteran of the pastoral army should come out well 
in the end. 

By easy stages we fared on till we came to 
Kilmore. That flourishing city, as I suppose it calls 
itself now, was then chiefly noted for its mud, the 
depth and blackness of which were truly remarkable. 
A few potato-growing farms and the usual comple- 
ment of public-houses made up the town. There I 
lost two horses, a serious and melancholy occurrence 


which was likely to interfere with our march. I 
left the cattle to come on, and resolved to ride to 
Melbourne to find them or get others. I knew they 
were likely to " make " in that direction, about the 
Upper Plenty. 

At Kinlochewe I encountered the late Mr. 
Dalmahoy Campbell. He condoled with me. How 
pleasant is a sympathetic manner from an older man 
to a youngster ! I have never forgotten those who, 
in my youth, were kindly and tolerant. He gave 
me the advice of an experienced overlander, and 
promised to write to a friend in the neighbourhood 
to look out for the runaways. 

At the next stage I encountered my old friend 
Fred Burchett, late of "The Gums," another Port 
Fairy man, luckily also bound that way with a herd 
of cows and calves — the latter given in — which he 
had purchased from Mr. Shelley, at Tumut. His 
cattle were just ahead, and he proposed that we 
should join forces at Keilor, and journey together 
the rest of the way. Nothing could be nicer. 
I forgot my griefs. " Lost horses," like " lost 
sheep," produce acute suffering while they last ; 
but the agony abates, as Macaulay said. I spent 
the evening with him, and next day went on to 

Poor dear Fred ! The kindest, the best-tempered, 
the most humorous of men ! How many a laugh 
we had together ! It has always been a grief to me 
that he died before the advent of Bret Hartc or 
Mark Twain ! How he would have revelled in 
their inimitable touches, their daring drolleries, their 
purest pathos. A well-read man and a fair scholar, 

ix K1LFERA 95 

his was a mind nearly related to that of Charles 
Lamb, of whose wondrous semitones of mirth and 
melancholy he had the fullest appreciation. He, 
though living fifty miles away, was one of the 
" Dunmore mob," and aided generally in the sym- 
posia which were there enjoyed. It was a great 
stroke of luck our being able to join forces, and I 
looked forward to the rest of the journey as quite a 
pleasant picnic party. 

I did not get my truant horses (they were 
ultimately recaptured), but I foraged up other re- 
mounts and rejoined my cattle, with which I made 
a cut across country via Deep Creek, Woodlands, 
and Keilor, then the property of Mr. J. B. Watson, 
and exhibiting no foreshadowing of a railway station. 
Mr. Burchett was only one stage ahead, I was told. 
At the Little River I overtook him. This was his 
observation on that eccentric watercourse. Scanning 
with an eye of deepest contemplation its cavernous 
channel and apparently perfect freedom from the 
indispensable element, he thus delivered himself: 
" They call this the Little River. Well they may ! 
It's the smallest blooming river / ever came across ! 
Why, we had hard work to get water enough in it 
to boil our kettle with ! " 

After this amalgamation everything went prosper- 
ously. We had plenty of driving power, and the 
cattle strung along the road daily with comparatively 
nimble feet. Something of this cheerfulness may be 
attributed to the fact that we had ceased to camp 
or watch them. Judging correctly that after so 
long a trail they would be indisposed to ramble, 
we left them out at night, and slept the sleep 


of the just. At daylight they were always well 
within view, generally lying down, and half-an-hour's 
work put them all together. Fred was always averse 
to early exercise, so we compromised matters by his 
lending me his one-eyed cob, " The Gravedigger," so 
called from a partial resemblance to the animal in- 
cautiously acquired by the Elder in " Sam Slick " 
at a Lower Canadian horse fair. " They're a simple 
people, those French ; they don't know much about 
horses ; their priests keeps it from 'em." This 
quotation Fred had always in his mouth, and as 
" The Gravedigger " was not quite what he appeared 
to be, a perfectly -shaped and well-mannered cob, 
there certainly was a resemblance. One of his 
peculiarities, probably arising from defective vision, 
was an occasional paroxysm of unreasonable fear, 
accompanied by backjumping, which had occasion- 
ally unseated his master and others. One day, 
however, Fred rode into camp with a triumphant 
expression, having just had a stand-up fight with 
" The Gravedigger." " He tried all he knew, confound 
him ! " he explained, " but he couldn't shift me an 
inch. I had too much mud on my boots." This 
novel receipt for horsemanship was comprehensible 
when we glanced at the amount of solid western 
mud disposed not only on the boots, but upon his 
whole person and apparel. I had no compunction, 
therefore, in taking it out of " The Gravedigger " in 
those early morning gallops, and he was decidedly 
less unsocial for the rest of the day in consequence. 

The only bad night we had was just before we 
came to the Leigh River. There we were amid " pur- 
chased land," that bane of the old-world pastoralist, 

ix K1LFERA 97 

so had to watch all night and keep our horses in 
hand, which was unprecedented. 

When daylight broke my comrade said, with an 
air of tremendous deliberation, " The men can bring 
on the cattle well enough now, Rolf; suppose you 
and I go and breakfast at the Leigh Inn ? " I 
caught at the idea, and we rode on the seven miles 
as happy as schoolboys at the idea of a real break- 
fast with chops and steaks, eggs and buttered toast, 
on a clean tablecloth. After a night's watching, too, 
our appetites were something marvellous. Fred 
related to me how on a previous occasion he had 
originated this " happy thought," and, not to be 
deficient of every adjunct to luxurious enjoyment, 
had ordered a bath, and borrowed a clean shirt from 
the landlord. We contented ourselves with the bath 
on this turn. 

As we sat in the pleasant parlour a couple of 
hours later, serene and satisfied— I might say 
satiated — reading the latest Port Phillip Patriot, we 
saw the long string of cattle draw down a deep 
gorge into the valley, and cross the river in front of 
the house. Then we ordered out the horses, paid 
our bill, and, with a sigh of gastronomic retrospect, 
followed the trail across the plain. 




Mr. BURCHETT was rather famous for combining 
pleasure with business when travelling on the road 
with stock. At times his experiments were thought 
un peu risqucs. It was related of him and Mr. Alick 
Kemp (I think) that finding themselves so near 
Melbourne as the Saltwater River, in sole charge of 
a mob of fat cattle from " The Gums," they held 
council, and decided that the cattle would be all 
right in a bend of the river till the morning, being 
quiet and travel-worn. The friends then started for 
Melbourne, where they went to the theatre and 
otherwise enjoyed themselves. They came back 
the first thing in the morning, to find the cattle 
peacefully reposing, and as safe as houses. It might 
well have been otherwise. There was a dismal tale 
current in the district of the first mob of fat cattle 
from Eumcralla — magnificent animals, elephants 
in size, and rolling fat — stampeding at the sight of 
a pedestrian, on the road to market, being lost, and, 
as to the greater part, never recovered. 

This time we decided to take "the Frenchman's" 

chap, x OLD PORT FAIRY 99 

road, past Crecy, a trifle monotonous, perhaps, — it 
was all plain till you got to Salt Creek, — but 
possessing advantages for so large a drove. We 
reached an out-station of the Hopkins Hill property, 
then owned by a Tasmanian proprietary, and man- 
aged by " a fine old ' Scottish ' gentleman, all of the 
olden time." We put the cattle into a small 
mustering paddock, and retired to rest with great 
confidence in their comfort and our own. About 
midnight a chorus of speculative lowing and bellowing 
acquainted us with the fact that they were all out. 
An unnoticed slip-rail had betrayed us. We arose, 
but could do nothing, and returned to our blankets. 
Our rest, however, had been effectually broken. 

" How did you sleep, Fred ? " was my query at 

" Well," meditatively, " I've had a quantity of 
very inferior sleep" was his rejoinder. 

At Nareeb Nareeb, the station then of Messrs. 
Scott, Gray, and Marr, we, by permission, camped 
for the purpose of separating our cattle, either by 
drafting through the yard, or by " cutting out " on 
horseback. After a brief trial of the latter method, 
we decided for the stock-yard, there being a large 
and well-planned one on the ground. But the mud ! 
— it was the merry month of May, or else June only, 
and rain had fallen in sufficient quantities to make 
millionaires now of all the squatters from Ballarat to 
Bourke. We put on our oldest clothes, armed 
ourselves with sticks, and resolutely faced it. What 
figures we were at nightfall ! We smothered a 
few head, but the work was done. Our enter- 
tainers had a short time since mustered their whole 


herd, and sold them in Adelaide. We heard some 
of their road stories. In crossing the great marshes 
which lie to the north-west of Mount Gambier, they 
had to carry their collie dogs on horseback before 
them for miles. 

We had nothing quite so bad as this, but after 
we parted next day, Fred for " The Gums," and in 
cheering proximity to the Mount Rouse stony rises, 
the best fattening, and withal best sheltered, winter 
country in the west, I envied him his luck. I had 
farther to go, and when I arrived my homestead was 
situated upon an island, with leagues of water around 
it in every direction. 

To " tail " or herd cattle daily in such weather 
was impossible, so both herds were turned out, and 
by dint of reasonable " going round " and general 
supervision, they took kindly to their new quarters. 

Fred, I remember, told me that his cattle went 
bodily into the " Mount Rouse stones," which by no 
means belonged to his run, and there abode all the 
winter. He did not trouble his head much about 
them till the spring, when they came in, of course, as 
mustering commenced. There were no fences then, 
and no man vexed himself about such a trifle as a 
few hundred head of a neighbour's cattle being on 
his run. 

On our way we returned to and camped oppo- 
site Hopkins Hill station homestead. A neat 
cottage in those days, slightly different from the 
present mansion. Thence I think to Mr. Joseph 
Ware's of Minjah, a cattle station which had not 
been very long bought from Messrs. Plummer and 
Dent, who had purchased from the Messrs. Boldcn 


Brothers. Then past Smylie and Austin's to 
Kangatong, where dwelt Mr. James Dawson. 

We remained at Kangatong for a day, so as to 
give Joe Burge time to come and meet us, which he 
did, considerably lightening my labours and anxieties 
thereby. Thence to Dunmore, which was " as 
good as home." The next day saw the whole lot 
safe in a big brush-yard, which Joe Burge had 
thoughtfully prepared for their reception, thinking 
it would do to plant with potatoes in the spring. 
And a capital crop there was ! 

I always think that the years intervening between 
1846 and the diggings— that is, the discovery of 
gold at the Turon, in New South Wales, in 1850, 
and at Ballarat in 185 1 — were the happiest of the 
pastoral period. There was a good and improving 
market for all kinds of stock. Labour, though not 
over-plentiful, was sufficient for the work necessary 
to be done. The pastures were to a great extent 
under-stocked, so that there were reserves of grass 
which enabled the squatter to contend success- 
fully with the occasional dry seasons. There was 
inducement to moderate enterprise, without allure- 
ment to speculation. The settlement of the country 
was progressing steadily. Agricultural and pastoral 
occupation moved onward in lines parallel to one 
another. There was no jostling or antagonism. 
Each of the divisions of rural labour had its facilities 
for legitimate development. There were none of 
the disturbing forces which have assumed such 
dangerous proportions in these latter days. No 
studied schemes of resistance or circumvention were 
thought of by the squatter. No spiteful agrarian 


invasion, no blackmailing, no sham improvements 
were possible on the part of the farmer. 

From time to time portions of land specially- 
suited for agricultural settlement were surveyed 
and subdivided by the Government. On these, 
as a matter of course, when sold by auction at some 
advance upon upset price, according to quality, was 
a purely agricultural population settled. It had 
not then occurred to the squatter, hard set to find 
money for his necessary expenditure upon labour 
and buildings, stock and implements, to pay down 
£1 per acre or more for ordinary grazing ground. 
The farmer, as a rule, sold him flour and forage, 
supplied some of the needful labour, and hardly 
more came into competition with his pastoral 
neighbour than if he had lived in Essex or Kent. 

I can answer in my own person for the friendly 
feeling which then existed between the two great 
primitive divisions of land-occupation. The Port 
Fairy farmers were located upon two large blocks, 
the Farnham and Belfast surveys, about ten miles from 
the nearest and not more than fifty from the more 
distant squattages. " The Grange," afterwards known 
by its present name of " Hamilton," was then part of 
a station, and was not surveyed and subdivided till 
some years after. 

The majority of the squatters found it cheaper to 
buy flour and potatoes from the farmers than to 
grow them. Most of us grew our own hay and 
oats ; but in after years our requirements were 
largely supplemented from Port Fairy, even in these 
easily produced crops. In return the farmers 
purchased milch cows, as well as steers for breaking 


to plough and team ; and if these, with the increase 
of the female cattle, strayed on to the runs, they were 
always recoverable at muster time, and no threat of 
impounding was ever made. The agricultural area 
was enlarged when needed. To this no squatter 
objected, nor, to my knowledge, was such land 
purchased by other than bona -fide farmers. I 
cannot call to mind any feud or litigation between 
squatter and farmer having its inception in the land 

Both classes met alike at race meetings and 
agricultural Shows ; and, as far as could be noticed, 
there was none of the smouldering feeling of 
jealousy regarding the prevalence of latifmidia, 
or other casus belli, which has of late years blazed 
up and raged so furiously. 

Wages were not high in those days, and yet 
the men were contented. They certainly saved 
more money than they do now. They managed to 
acquire stock, and after taking up a bit of unoccu- 
pied country, became squatters, and wealthy ones 
too. Joe Burge and his wife received ,£30 a year. 
Old Tom had 10s. a week ; lodging and rations, in 
which matters, at that time, we shared much alike, 
were included. 

I recall, moreover, instances of genuine attachment 
as exhibited by old family servants to the children 
of their masters, though it is generally asserted that 
this particular kind of faithful retainership is confined 
to those who are happy enough to be born in Europe. 

Mr. John Cox, of Werrongourt, supplied one 
instance, at least, which illustrates the feeling so 
honourable to both master and servant. A shepherd 


named Buckley had saved sufficient money in his 
service wherewith to purchase a small flock of sheep. 
He found a run for them on a corner of the Mount 
Rouse country, where they increased to the respect- 
able number of 14,000. He told me and others 
that, as Mr. Cox had in the first instance given him 
facilities for investing his savings profitably, and in 
every way taken an interest in his welfare, he was 
resolved to leave his whole property to " Master 
Johnny," the second son, then a fine ingenuous lad 
of twelve or thirteen. Buckley was a bachelor, I 
may state, and had presumably no other claims 
upon his fortune. 

But, about a year before his death, he received 
intelligence that a sister, of whom he had not heard 
since his arrival in Tasmania, had emigrated to 
America, and was still living. He consulted a 
mutual friend, and was told that Mr. Cox was the 
last man who would wish, or indeed allow him to 
neglect his own kin. " I must leave Master Johnny 
something," he said ; and when the old man passed 
away, and his property was chiefly devised to his 
sister, a sum of ^1000 was duly bequeathed to 
Mr. John Cox, jun. 

Mr. Cox was unfortunately in failing health at that 
time. The station, Werrongourt, was sold to Mr. 
Mooncy, the great cattle-dealer, for the magnificent (?) 
price of £5 per head ! It was the first rise in cattle 
after the gold of 185 1, and anything over ^3 per 
head was thought a high figure. Mr. Cox, however, 
was anxious to visit the old country, chiefly on 
account of his health. The change was unavailing. 
He died on the voyage, to the great grief of the 


district, where all revered him as a high-minded, hon- 
ourable country gentleman. He was, indeed, a worthy 
son of the good south land, a staunch friend, a true 
patriot, and as a magistrate famed for the unswerving 
justice which equally regarded rich and poor. 
Among his humbler countrymen, " Mr. Cox said it " 
was sufficient to close any argument, whatever might 
be the interest involved. 

" Master Johnny," some years after, elected to 
enter the German army. He and a younger brother 
fought in the Franco-Prussian war ; they were both 
wounded at Sedan, where their mother, an Australian 
by birth {nee Miss Frances Cox, of Hobartville), 
attended them till their recovery, continuing her 
unselfish labours by acting as hospital nurse until 
the end of the war. 

The brothers were, no doubt, promoted. They 
were in the cavalry, as became Australians, and 
most probably now, as Baron and Count von Coxe, 
are adding fresh branches to a wide-spreading and 
generally flourishing family tree. 

When " Master Johnny," one fresh spring morn- 
ing, rode down to Squattlesea Mere from Werrongourt, 
bringing two couples of draft foxhounds from his 
father's pack, to be sent to an intending M.F.H. in 
another colony, we little dreamed of the ranks in 
which he was to ride, the sport in which he was to 
share, ere the second decade should have passed over 
our heads. 



SQUATTLESEA MERE was about ten miles from the 
coast, and equidistant from the towns of Port Fairy 
and Portland, the latter lying about thirty miles west- 
ward. My first visit to it was on the occasion of a 
sale of some fat cattle to Mr. Henty for the use of 
the whalers — who were then still extant. Of course 
there were plenty of bullocks at Muntham, but it 
was hardly worth while to send so far for so small 
a lot. I was ready to deliver, and not indisposed for 
the trip and adventure myself. 

So, having been helped off the run by Joe Burge, 
I started with my beeves, and made the journey 
safely to the slaughter - yards, which were then 
a few miles on the hither side of the town, near 
the beach. The road lay through the marshes for 
five or six miles, then through the stringy-bark 
forest, whence I emerged on an open sandy tract 
known as " the heath." Such land is not uncommon 
in the vicinity of Portland and west of Port Fairy ; 
indeed, the greater part of the country between 
Portland and the wondrous downs of the Wannon 

chap, xi PORTLAND BA Y 107 

consists of this undesirable formation alternately with 
stringy-bark forest. 

The soil upon the heath is pure sand of a white 
or greyish colour. Small lagoons, thickly covered 
with dark-brown reeds, are spread over the surface ; it 
is mostly firm riding ground, though very indifferent 
pasture. Several species of epacris grow there, the 
pink and white blossoms of which were gay and 
even brilliant in spring. Open as a plain, and, 
apart from a question of grass, an effective contrast 
to the endless eucalyptus. A few miles of heath — 
the forest again — and we come to Darlot's Creek, 
narrow, but running deep and strong, like a New 
Zealand river. 

This singular stream must in some way receive 
the water of the great Eumeralla marshes, which, 
as they have no visible outlet, probably filter 
through the lava country, from which, near Lake 
Condah, Darlot's Creek issues without previous 

Summer and winter this cheery little stream, 
from twenty to fifty feet wide, and hardly ever 
less than from six to ten feet deep, rushes whirl- 
ing and eddying to the sea. We cross at a 
stone causeway, over which the water runs, and in 
another mile or two come to the Fitzroy River. 
This is a true Australian watercourse, and has the 
usual abruptly alternating depth of channel. Both 
streams debouch on a sandy sea-beach, a few miles 
from Portland. The channel mouths are continually 
shifting, and as the main road from Port Fairy 
then crossed them, the depth of water was often 
unpleasantly altered, to the manifest danger of 


travellers. Many a misadventure was credited to 
the " mouth of the Fitzroy," and more than one poor 
fellow, when the tide was high, essaying to cross with 
a heavy swag, lost the number of his mess. The 
proper thing for non-pedestrians at that time was to 
ride or drive some distance into the waves, where the 
depth was shallower ; but there were said to be quick- 
sands, in which horse or wheel might sink, and, with 
the surf breaking over, in such case the look-out was 

Before reaching this part of the road, at an 
elevated point of the heath, a full view of the ocean 
burst suddenly on my view. What a sight it was ! 
A world of forest greenery lay north, east, and west ; 
on the south the tumbling billows of the unbounded 
sea. Far as eye could reach was the wondrous 
plain of the South Pacific, stretching away to the 
farthest range of vision, where it was lost in a soft, 
shimmering haze. Did I clap my hands and shout 
" Thalatta ! Thalatta ! " like the author of Eothen ? 
I had the inclination to do it, I know. 

In the distance, lying north-west, were the cliffs 
and noble bay of Portland — not a very grand town., 
but noteworthy as the point dappui whence those 
representative Englishmen and distinguished colonists, 
the Hentys, commenced the Anglo-Saxon conquest 
of Australia Felix. 

I had the pleasure of knowing these gentlemen ; 
and the longer I live, the stronger becomes my 
conviction that the genuine Englishman, compacted 
as he is of diverse races, holding the strong points of 
each, is the best " all-round man " the earth affords. 
And the Hentys, as a family, have demonstrated my 


proposition perhaps more completely than any other 
which ever landed on our shores. For, consider 
what manner of colonisers they were ! Explorers, 
sailors, whalers, farmers, squatters, merchants, poli- 
ticians (Mr. William Henty was chief secretary of 
Tasmania) — in all these different avocations the 
brothers were of approved excellence. Indeed, each 
displayed in his own personality an aptitude for the 
whole range of accomplishments. 

Stalwart and steadfast were they in body and 
mind, well fitted to contend with the rude forces of 
nature, and still ruder individuals, among which their 
lot was chiefly cast in those days. But withal 
genial, hilarious, and in their moments of relaxation 
prone to indulge in the full swing of those high 
animal spirits which, for the most part, accompany a 
robust bodily and mental organisation. 

Always familiar with the great industry of stock- 
breeding both in Tasmania and their new home, they 
imported, from their earliest occupation, the very 
choicest stud animals, as well as the best implements 
in all departments of husbandry. " Little John," 
" Wanderer," imported thoroughbreds, were at one 
time in their possession. Suffolks and Lincolns 
were not lacking to ensure production of waggon 
horses, and in general effect to speed the plough. 
And I saw at Muntham the first English coaching 
sire that my eyes had rested upon — a grand 
upstanding bay horse, with a well-shaped head, lofty 
forehand, and clean, fiat legs. I remember describ- 
ing him to a horse-loving friend as an enlarged 
thoroughbred in appearance — a description which 
would hold good of some of the better sort of 


coachers of the present day, the only doubt being 
whether, having regard to the abnormal shapes of 
some of our modern racehorses, the coacher's reputa- 
tion might not suffer by the comparison. 

At the time of which I speak Mr. Edward Henty 
was at Muntham — that Australian " promised land " 
of rolling downs, hill and dale, all equally fertile, well 
grassed, well watered ; favoured as to climate, soil, 
and situation ; the only drawback being that the 
great grass crop, summer-ripened, was occasionally 
ignited in a dry autumn, and, like a prairie fire, 
swept all before it. In a later day preparation was 
made for such a contingency, and light waggons, 
with adequate teams known as the " fire-horses," 
kept ready to start at a moment's notice for the 
warning smoke-column. Mr. Frank Henty abode 
at Merino Downs, the name of which explains the 
early attention paid by him to the chief source of 
Australian wealth. Mr. Stephen Henty had his 
residence in the town of Portland, where at that time 
he was the leading merchant, and, excepting Mr. 
Blair, the police magistrate, the leading inhabitant. 

No more delightful country home ever existed 
than the wide-verandahed spacious bungalow, from 
the windows of which the view was unbroken of 
the waters of the bay. A well -trimmed garden 
hedge hid the intervening street and slope to the 
beach without obstructing the view. There, if any- 
where, was to be found true earthly happiness, if such 
can ever be predicated of this lower world and 
its inhabitants. 

A promising family, full of health, spirits, and 
intelligence ; parents and children alike overflowing 


with kindness ; hospitality unostentatiously extended 
both to friends and acquaintances, residents and 
strangers ; a noble property gradually and surely 
increasing in value ; family affection exhibited in 
its purest form. But 

It is written on the rose — 
Alas ! that there, decay 
Should claim from love a part, — 
From love a part ! 

Where are now the energetic, kindly husband 
and father, the merry boys and girls, the tender 
mother, then sheltered and united in that most happy 
home ? The mournfullest task of memory lies in 
realising how large a toll is yielded in a few fleeting 
years to the unsparing tax-gatherer Death. 

Portland, although devoid of the fertile lands 
which encompass Port Fairy and Warrnambool, had 
yet beauties of its own. Its situation was romantic. 
Lofty cliffs rose from the beach, and from many a 
picturesque eminence the residences of the towns- 
people looked on the broad ocean and the peaceful 
waters of the bay. Still were visible when I first 
saw Portland the grass-grown furrows turned by 
the hand of Edward Henty, who had not only 
accomplished that highly important feat — vitally 
necessary, indeed, in a settlement poorly provided 
with grain — but put together the plough with which 
the first rite to Ceres was performed. In those 
days a deep-rutted, miry road connected the port 
with the rich lands of the Wannon — forty miles of 
sore affliction to the driver of any species of vehicle, 
bullock drays included. Now the rail has simplified 
all difficulties. From the glorious " downs country " 


to the shore is but a journey of hours — from 
Hamilton to Melbourne how trifling a stage ! 

What if the gallant explorer, the immortal Major 
Mitchell, could return and look upon the network 
of farms, the metalled roads, the railway terminus, 
the telegraph, the mail-coach ! How would he recall 
the day when, with his toil-worn party, he reached 
Portland, and, unaware of the presence there of way- 
farers other than themselves, took the Hentys' settle- 
ment for one of an escaped gang of bushrangers ! 
How little can we forecast the future in these days 
of rapid development and almost magical national 
growth ! Besides the Messrs. Henty the principal 
Wannon squatters were the Winters (George, Samuel, 
and Trevor), men of remarkable intellect ; the 
Messrs. Coldham were at Grassdale, where, indeed, 
they have the good fortune still to remain ; Lang 
and Elms were at Lyne, near neighbours to Mount 
Napier ; Acheson Ffrench at Monivae, near 
Hamilton ; John Robertson Nowlan, who rented 
Murndal for some years from Mr. Samuel Pratt 
Winter. He afterwards went into partnership with 
Captain Stanley Carr, an ex-military man domiciled 
in Silesia, who imported Saxon merino sheep, and 
had a very proper idea of the " coming event " in 
Australia — the great rise and development of the 
merino interest. Farther on, the Hunters (Alick, 
Jemmy, and latterly Frank and Willie) were at 
Kalangadoo, Mount Gambier, with Willie Mitchell, 
Evelyn Sturt, and John Meredith as next- 
door neighbours. Charles Mackinnon and his 
partner Watson — am I trenching on sacred con- 
fidences when I allude to the sobriquet " Jeeribong " ? 


What a lot of splendid fellows, to be sure ! All the 

men I have named were gentlemen by birth and 

education. It may be imagined what a jolly, genial 

society it was, what a luxurious neighbourhood, when 

a few miles' ride was a certain find for culture, good 

fellowship, and the warmest hospitality. While at 

the race meetings at Portland and Port Fairy, when 

these joyous comrades amalgamated confessedly for 

enjoyment, as the old song has it — 

And for that reason, 

And for a season, 

We'll be merry before we go, 

there was a week's revelry fit for the gods on high 

Not only from across the Adelaide border — for 
Mount Gambier was on the farther side — did both 
knights and squires wend their way in pilgrimage 
to the Port Fairy revels, but from Trawalla and 
Mount Emu, from Warranbeen, Ercildoune, and 
Buninyong. Adolphus Goldsmith from Trawalla, 
William Gottreaux from Lilaree, Philip Russell from 
Carngham (I can hear him now ordering his gray 
colt's legs to be bandaged the night he rode in), 
Charley Lyon, Compton Ferrers, Alick Cuningham, 
Will Wright. Ah ! 

We were a gallant company, 
Riding o'er land, sailing o'er sea. 

• • •   

And some are dead and some are gone, 
. . . ay di mi — Alhama ! 
And some are robbers on the hills, 
That look along Epirus' valleys. 

Well, perhaps not exactly. They abide on those hills 



which overlook the winding Thames, and in the 
season the Serpentine or historic Seine. Any robbery 
they may engage in is getting the better of unwary 
brethren at pool, or picking up the odds on the 
favourite a trifle before the general public is taken 
into the confidence of the stable. 

It is hard to find a poet who expresses your 
feelings and circumstances with precision. Yet even 
Byron's friends and fellow-believers in Greek inde- 
pendence have hardly had a more complete dispersion 
than the comrades of that lost " Arcady the Blest." 

We ought to have made the most of those days — 
of the time which came " before the gold." We never 
saw their like again. Then we tasted true happiness, 
if such ever visits this lower world. Every one had 
hope, encouragement, adequate stimulus to work, — 
hard work which was well paid, — leading to enter- 
prise, which year by year fulfilled the promise of 

Nobody was too rich. No one was wealthy 
enough to live in Melbourne. Each man had to be 
his own overseer ; had to live at home. He was, 
therefore, friendly and genial with his neighbours, on 
whom he was socially dependent. No one thought 
of going to Europe, or selling off and " cutting the 
confounded colony," and so on. No ! there we 
were, adscripti glebes as we thought, from a dozen or 
so to a score of years. It was necessary for all to 
make the best of it, and very cheery and contented 
nearly everybody was. 

In these days of universal fencing it seems curious 
to think that from Portland Bay to Geclong, from 
Geelong to Melbourne, was there never a fenced-in 


estate — only the horse and bullock paddocks. 
Tens of thousands of cattle were managed and con- 
trolled by the stockman — as he was then called — 
(stock-rider came later), with, perhaps, an assistant 
black boy or white urchin of some sort. It was held 
that in that respect the cattlemen had the best of it, 
as one good stockman with occasional aid could look 
after two or three thousand head of cattle — none of 
our herds were over this number — whereas every 
thousand or fifteen hundred sheep needed a shepherd, 
great loss ensuing if the labour and tendance were 
not provided. 

The great industries of Port Fairy were agri- 
culture on the one hand, and pastoral on the other. 
The rich lands which lay westward of Warrnambool 
were gradually sold, always after survey and by 
auction, having been subdivided into moderate-sized 
farms. These were purchased by resident farmers or 
small capitalists who desired to try agriculture for an 
occupation. There was a good market for produce, 
and the fame of the Port Fairy wheat crop, as well 
as that of the potato harvest, commenced to spread. 

Than the lands on the banks of the Merai, 
around Warrnambool, and between that town and 
Port Fairy, none more fertile are known in Australia. 
They enjoy the conditions of deep, rich loam, resting 
on a substratum of tufa and limestone, with perfect 
natural drainage. So friable, too, as to be ready for 
the plough immediately after rain. Apparently of 
an inexhaustible fertility, and lying near the sea, 
which occasionally sends its spray over the wheat 
sheaves, they are but little subject to frost. The 
coast showers preserve the moisture of the soil, and, 


whether for grain, roots, or grass, prevent the dis- 
astrous desiccation so unhappily common in the 
fields and pastures of the interior. 

As the farmer commenced to press closely upon 
the pastoral Crown tenant, a certain soreness was 
engendered, but no complaint of wrong-doing on the 
part of the Government followed. The squatters 
accepted the situation ; they did their best to lighten 
the difficulty. Those who had high-class grazing or 
arable lands bestirred themselves to buy as much 
around the homestead as would serve to make a 
moderate estate. The situation and climate being 
undeniably good, they argued that they could make 
as much out of a few thousand acres of freehold 
as formerly from the whole area under an imperfect 

As a matter of fact, when the dreadful " auction 
day" arrived, the greater portion of the menaced 
squatters thus saved themselves. Men sympathised 
with them, too, and did not bid too persistently 
against the former Lord of the Waste, whose day of 
dominion was over. 

The nearest station to Port Fairy was Aringa, 
the property of Mr. Ritchie. It was only distant 
about four miles. Partly arable land, but possessing 
more " stony rises " and oak ridges, it was capable of 
growing excellent grass, but not likely to need the 

The proprietor made an excellent survey of his 
run, carefully excluding the more tempting agricultural 
portions. And so judiciously did he purchase at 
auction that he found himself the owner of twelve 
or fourteen thousand acres of splendid grass land, 


without a road through it, and therefore capable of 
being enclosed within a ring fence. The average of 
price was, I fancy, below 25s. per acre. After fencing 
this truly valuable freehold, Mr. Ritchie discovered 
that he could let it for such a yearly rental as would 
enable him to live handsomely without the responsi- 
bility of stock. Mr. Edols, of Geelong, was, I think, 
the first tenant on a five years' lease, and ever since 
that day Aringa has been a highly productive estate, 
covered with a matted sward of clover and rye-grass, 
adapted either for sheep or cattle, equally profitable 
to farm or to let. 

Yambuk, formerly the property of Lieutenant 
Andrew Baxter, a retired military officer, did not 
come off quite so well. But I fancy the present 
proprietor, Mr. Suter, who has lived there since 1854, 
or thereabouts, finds that he has a freehold sufficient 
for all ordinary wants. 

" Tarrone," lying to the eastward, was not distant 
more than ten or twelve miles from Port Fairy. It 
was occupied in those early days by another army 
man, Lieutenant Chamberlain. Both of the ex- 
militaires made exceptionally good squatters, refuting 
the general experience which does not assign a 
high rank as successful colonists to soldiers. With 
enormous reed-beds and marshes, and a certain pro- 
portion of stony rises and well-grassed open forest, 
Tarrone was a model cattle run, carrying generally 
between two and three thousand head of cattle. It 
was a splendid tract of fattening country, and some 
of the grandest drafts of bullocks that ever left the 
West bore the Tarrone brand, " KB." It had 
formerly belonged to Messrs. Kilgour and Besnard, 


but for alleged doing to death of aboriginals the 
license of these gentlemen had been withdrawn. It 
was subsequently granted to Mr. Chamberlain. The 
paternal Government of New South Wales, until late 
years, kept the whip-hand of the squatters by reason 
of its power to withhold the only title by which we 
held our lands, and occasionally, as in the case 
referred to, the power was exercised. This run was 
also assailed by the auctioneer's hammer, but being 
strictly non-agricultural land, it retained virtually its 
integrity as a grazing estate. " Tarrone " was the 
station which suffered most on that day of fiery 
wrath, long remembered as " Black Thursday." All 
did so more or less ; but Mr. Chamberlain, who then 
lived there, lost fences and homestead, house and 
furniture, his household escaping barely with their 
lives. For weeks previously the summer weather 
had been hot and dry. There was, for a wonder, 
a cessation of the coast showers. The fated morning 
was abnormal — sultry and breezeless. The vaporous 
sky became lurid, darksome — awful. More than one 
terrified spectator believed that the Last Day had 
come, and not altogether without reason. The whole 
colony of Victoria was on fire at the same time, from 
the western coast to the eastern range of the 
Australian Alps. Farms and stations were burning 
at Port Fairy and Portland. The wife and children 
of a shepherd on the Upper Plenty rivulet, eastward 
of Melbourne, were burned to death, nearly three 
hundred miles in another direction. Far out to sea 
passengers viewed with wonder and alarm a dense 
black cloud overhanging the coast-line like a pall, 
such as may have shrouded buried Pompeii when the 


volcano heaved its fiery flood. Far from land 
showers of ashes fell upon the decks of approaching 

Though not without expectation of a larger bush- 
fire than usual, we were chiefly unprepared as the 
flame-wave rolled in over grass and forest from the 
north. The fire travelled fast on the preceding night, 
and the north-east wind rising to a gale towards mid- 
day, the march of the Destroyer waxed resistless and 
overpowering. Mr. Chamberlain told us afterwards 
that, feeling indisposed for exertion, and unaware of 
actual danger, he was lying down reading Vanity 
Fair. So enthralled was he by Becky Sharp's 
fascinations that he delayed going out to reconnoitre, 
though uneasily conscious that the smoke-clouds 
were thickening. 

He went at length on foot. Then he saw, to 
his astonishment, a wall of fire approaching the 
homestead with appalling rapidity. He turned 
and fled for his life, but had barely time to warn the 
station hands when the devouring element swept after. 
It was idle to resist in any ordinary method. The 
flames seemed to leap from the tree tops, as they scaled 
the trunks, then the higher branches, and were borne 
on loose fragments of bark far ahead of the line of fire. 

In a quarter of an hour each fence, building, and 
shed of a well-improved homestead was in flames. 
So great was the heat that after the first flight of 
the inmates from the dwelling-house, it was impossible 
to re-enter. Nothing of the contents was saved but 
a desk and a picture, while the household stood awe- 
stricken in a plot of garden vegetation, moistening 
their parched lips from time to time, suffocating 


with heat and smoke, and holding much doubt as to 
their ultimate safety. As they gazed around they 
could see the wild birds dropping dead from the 
forest trees, the kangaroos leaping past with singed 
and burning fur, while cattle, bellowing with fear and 
astonishment, dashed wildly to the river-bank, to 
plunge into the deeper pools. 

At Dunmore a better look-out had been kept. 
By the united efforts of the establishment the 
flames were arrested on the very verge of the home- 
stead ; but so close and desperate was the contest 
that the garden gate was burned, and Mr. Macknight 
was carried indoors insensible, having fainted from 
the severity of the protracted struggle. Had he died 
it would not have been the only instance on record 
of the danger of over-exertion with the thermo- 
meter at more than a hundred and fifty degrees 
of Fahrenheit in the sun. 

We at Squattlesea Mere were more lucky than 
our neighbours, inasmuch as the fire took a turn 
southward, behind Dunmore, and continued its de- 
vastating progress through the heaths and scrubs 
which lay on the north bank of the Shaw. It was 
in a manner shunted away from our homestead by the 
region of marsh country which stretched around 
and beyond it. 



WHAT tales came in from far and near of ruin and 
disaster — farms and stations, huts and houses, rich 
and poor ! — all had equally suffered in the Great 
Fire, long remembered throughout the length and 
breadth of the land. However, a bush fire is not so 
bad as a drought. A certain destruction of pasture 
and property takes place, but there is not the wide- 
spread devastation among the flocks and herds 
caused by a dry season. Heavy rain set in a 
short time afterwards, in our district at any rate. 
The burned pastures were soon emerald-green, and 
Mr. Chamberlain, who had been compelled to flee to 
Port Fairy homeless, and there abide till a cottage 
was built at Tarrone, made sale of a thousand head 
of fat cattle in one draft before the year was out. 

If the system of moderate alienation of Crown 
lands then prevalent could have been carried out in 
after years — viz. the disposing of agricultural areas 
from time to time, as the demand increased — no 
great harm would have accrued to the pastoral 
interest, and the legitimate wants of the farmers 


would have been fully supplied. The owners of 
the stations referred to, as the wave of population 
approached, chiefly applied themselves to secure the 
purely pastoral portions of the runs, leaving the 
arable land for its legitimate occupiers. No squatter 
was then suddenly ruined, while all intending farmers 
were satisfied. Good feeling was maintained, as each 
class of producers recognised the necessity for com- 
promise, when the mixed occupation had become a 
fact. It was far otherwise when the whole land lay 
open to the selector, who was thus enabled to enter 
at will into lands which other men's labour had 
rendered valuable, or to exact a price for refraining. 

In good sooth, the pioneer squatter of that day 
had many and divers foes to contend with. Having 
done battle with one army of Philistines, another 
straightway appeared from an unexpected quarter. 
We had had trouble with our aboriginals : a canine 
" early Australian," the dingo, had likewise disturbed 
our rest. He used to eat calves, with perhaps an 
occasional foal, so we waged war against him. 
We were not up to strychnine in those days. The 
first letter I saw in print on the subject was from 
the ill-fated Horace Wills, whose sheep had been 
suffering badly at the time. He had come across 
the panacea somewhere, and lost no time in re- 
commending it to his brother squatters. With the 
help of our kangaroo dogs, and an occasional 
murder of puppies, we pretty well cleared them out. 
As cattlemen, taking a selfish view of the case, we 
need not have been so enthusiastic. Though he 
killed an occasional calf, the wild hound did good 
service in keeping down the kangaroo, which, after 

xii GRASMERE 123 

his extinction, proved a far more expensive and 
formidable antagonist. 

We had more than once seen a small pack of 
dingoes surrounding an " old man kangaroo " in 
the winter time, when from weight and the soft 
nature of the ground he is unable to run fast. 
They also kill the " joeys " or young ones, when too 
small to run independently, though not to feed. I 
saw this exemplified on one occasion when returning 
late from a day's stock-riding. There was still light 
enough to distinguish surrounding objects, when a 
doe kangaroo crossed the track in front of me, 
hard pressed by a red dog close at her haunches. 
At first I took the pursuer to be a kangaroo dog, 
but seeing at a second glance that it was a dingo, 
I pulled up to watch the hunt. The forest was 
clear ; rather to my surprise he gained upon her, 
and, springing forward, nearly secured a hold. She 
just got free, and not till then did she rid herself of 
the burden with which she was handicapped, and 
without which the dog could not have " seen the 
way she went," as the stock-riders say. 

" Needs must when the devil drives " is an ancient 
proverb, and some idea of corresponding force must 
have passed through her marsupial mind as she cast 
forth from her pouch poor "Joey" — a good-sized 
youngster of more than a month old. He recog- 
nised the situation, for he scudded away with all 
his might, but was caught and killed by " Br'er " 
Dingo before I could interfere, his mother sitting up, 
a few yards off, making a curious sound indicative 
of wrath and fear. I somewhat unfairly deprived 
dingo of his supper by placing it carefully out of his 


reach in a tree ; but in the kangaroo battues which 
ensued, it more than once occurred to rne that I 
was interfering with a natural law, of which I did 
not then foresee the consequences. 

On the eastern side of Port Fairy lay Grasmere, 
which on my first introduction to the district, in 
1843, was the property of the Messrs. Bolden 
Brothers. Pleasantly situated on the banks of the 
Merai, its limestone slopes formed beautiful paddocks 
for the blue-blooded Bates shorthorns, of which these 
gentlemen were, at that time, the sole Australian 
proprietors. They had also a share in the Merang 
and Moodiwarra runs jointly with Messrs. Farie 
and Rodger. It was, however, arranged that they 
should remove their cattle within a certain time, 
and, I think, early in 1 844 the arrangement was 
carried out. These enterprising and distinguished 
colonists also owned Minjah, then known as "Bolden's 
sheep station," now Mr. Joseph Ware's magnificent 
freehold estate. 

A considerable sum of money for those days had 
been spent, as early as 1843, a t Grasmere, when the 
Rev. John Bolden and I rode in there, having been 
piloted from the " lower station," where we had 
spent the previous night, by a grizzled old stock- 
rider hight Jack Keighran. It was pitch dark, and 
I was glad to hear the kangaroo dogs set up their 
chorus, and to know that we were at home. Messrs. 
Lemuel and Armyne Bolden were then the resident 

In the morning I was able to look around at my 
leisure, and as I had just become inoculated with 
the shorthorn complaint, which I have never wholly 

xii GRASMERE 125 

lost, I had a treat. The paddocks, in size from 
fifty to two hundred acres, were securely enclosed 
with three-rail fences, and were well grassed, watered, 
and sheltered. 

I have never ceased to regret that the low prices 
which ruled then and for several years afterwards, 
coupled with the failure of a well-considered experi- 
ment in shipping salt beef in tierces from Melbourne, 
should have caused the breaking up of that model 
stud farm, the dispersion of a priceless shorthorn 
tribe. I had been previously introduced to " Lady 
Vane," a granddaughter of " Second Hubback," and 
her inestimable calf " Young Mussulman," at Heidel- 
berg. Here I had the pleasure of seeing them 
again, if not on their native heath, still in pastures 
befitting their high lineage and aristocratic position. 
Also a former daughter of Lady Vane and the Duke 
of Northumberland. There grazed the imported 
cows Lady and Matilda ; the imported Bates bulls 
Fawdon, Tommy Bates, Pagan, and Mahomet. 
Besides these a score or more of Circular Head 
shorthorn cows, then perhaps the purest cattle which 
the colony could furnish. 

No pains or expense were spared in the keep 
and rearing of these valuable — nay invaluable cattle 
— for which, indeed, high prices, for that period, 
had been paid in England. Everything seemed to 
promise well for the enterprise — so incalculably 
advantageous, in time to come, to the herds of 
Australia. And yet ere the year had rolled round 
the whole establishment had been disposed of to the 
Messrs. Manifold. The bulk of the herd cattle went 
to Messrs. John and Peter Manifold, of Lake 


Purrumbect, with a proportion of the bulls. The 
shorthorns were purchased by the late Mr. Thomas 
Manifold, who for some years after made Grasmere 
his residence. In the Spring Valley, a lovely 
natural meadow, were located a lot of beautiful 
heifers, the progeny of picked " H over 5 " cows 
(the Hawdon brand), and then the best bred herd in 
New South Wales. 

I was present at the purchase of Minjah from 
the Messrs. Bolden by Mr. Plummer, of the firm of 
Plummer and Dent, which took place in 1843. 
With him came Mr. Richard Sutton, as amicus 
curice, in the interest of Mr. Plummer, who was a 
newly-arrived Englishman — verdant as to colonial 
investments. There was a certain amount of argu- 
ment ; but finally Minjah was sold with fifty head 
of Spring Valley heifers and a young bull, the price, 
I think, being £5 per head for the heifers, £50 for 
the bull, and the station given in. This was the 
origin of the famous Minjah herd. Grasmere and 
Spring Valley, as also the run of Messrs. Strong and 
Foster, were subsequently " cut up " and sold. They 
were too near the town of Warrnambool to escape 
that fate. Mr. Manifold saved part of his run, but 
Messrs. Strong and Foster were less fortunate, losing 
nearly the whole of " St. Mary's." It was not sold, 
I think, until the gold year, 185 1, which accounted 
for its wholesale annexation. This is the only in- 
stance I can recall in that district of the proprietor 
losing his run in its entirety. The land, however, 
was exceptionally good, and unmixed with ordinary 
pastoral country. 

The Messrs. Allan Brothers — John, William, and 

xii CRASMERE 127 

Henry — held Tooram, and the country generally 
on the east bank of the Hopkins, where that river 
flows into the sea. It was a picturesque place, 
having a fine elevated site, and overlooking the 
broad, beautiful stream not far from its mouth. I 
thought they should have called it "Allan Water," but 
apparently it had not so occurred to them. The 
country was more romantic than profitable, it was 
said, in those days, being only moderately fattening, 
and wonder was often expressed that, having the 
rich western country all before them when they 
arrived in 1 841, or thereabouts, they did not make a 
better choice. But pioneers and explorers are often 
contented with country inferior to that which is 
picked up by those who come after. 

The real secret is that explorers are far more 
interested in the enterprise and adventure than in 
the promised land which should be the reward of 
their labours. They delight in the wilderness, and 
often undervalue Canaan. No spot could have been 
more suitably situated than the locale the Messrs. 
Allan selected for ministering to such tastes. 

On the south was the coast-line, stretching away 
to far Cape Otway. On that side they had no 
neighbours, and Mr. John Allan, who was an intrepid 
bushman, made hunting and exploring excursions in 
that direction. I paid them a visit in the early 
part of 1844. I regarded it as a perfectly lovely 
place, with all kinds of Robinson Crusoe possibilities. 
Wrecks, savages, pathless woods, an island solitude 
— it was on the road to nowhere ; nothing was 
wanting to enable the possessors to enjoy perfect 
felicity. The romantic solitude has, however, of late 


years been invaded by a cheese-factory. No doubt 
it supports a population, but the charm of the 
frowning, surf- beaten headland looking over the 
majestic, limitless ocean — of the broad reaches of the 
reed-fringed river — of the south-eastern trail leading 
into " a waste land where no one comes, or hath 
come since the making of the world " — must be fled 
for ever. 

" St. Ruth's " was the name given to a tract of 
country which joined Squattlesea Mere on the 
western boundary. I believe the name and the 
reputation of the district sold the place more than 
once, which was hard upon the purchasers, for it 
was one of the worst runs in Australia. It com- 
prised a few decent limestone ridges — with some 
passable flats, but the " balance " was scrub, fern, 
swamp, stringy-bark forest, and heath. Considering 
it lay in a good district, and enjoyed a fine climate, 
it was astonishing how it contrived to be so bad. 
If it did not ruin everybody that was ever connected 
with it, it was because they had no money to lose, or 
that exceptional amount of acuteness which enabled 
them to dodge hard fortune by passing it on. 

It was taken up, soon after our performance in 
that line, by Messrs. Cay and Kaye, sometimes 
called English and Scotch Kay. The former of these 
gentlemen, Mr. Robert Cay, was " shown " the run 
by the Yambuk people, when he rode over a very 
small bit of it, and, going back to his homestead on 
the Lodden, sent a trustworthy man up with two 
or three hundred head of cattle, who formally 
occupied it. 

A hut and yard were built — the cattle broken in, 

xii GRASMERE 129 

more or less — and the occupation was complete. 
A year or two after Mr. Cay sold out to Mr. 
Adolphus Goldsmith, of Trawalla, for a reasonable 
price, the cattle to be taken by book-muster. Mr. 
Goldsmith had a herd at Trawalla, which was being 
encroached upon by the sheep. He required room, 
and bought this curiously unprofitable place to put 
them on. The Port Fairy district, I should say, 
had a great reputation ; so had the adjoining runs. 
Mr. Goldsmith could not imagine that a run so near 
Tarrone, Yambuk, and Dunmore could be so very 
bad. Buyer and seller rode over it together. At 
the end of the day Mr. Cay said, " Look here, old 
fellow ! I never saw half as much of the run before. 
I had no idea it was such an infernal hole, I give 
you my word. If you like you can throw up your 
bargain ! " 

"Oh no!" quoth Dolly, "I'll stick to it. It 
will answer my purpose." 

The end of it was that Mr. Cunningham, as 
overseer, came down in charge of five or six hundred 
well-bred cattle, which were turned out at St. Ruth's 
after a reasonable " tailing," and presently were all 
over the district. Mr. Cunningham, as I have before 
stated, was one of the most energetic men possible, 
but he failed to make St. Ruth's a payable specula- 
tion. The cattle never fattened ; they became 
wild ; they could never be mustered with certainty ; 
they furnished none of the pleasing results with 
which cattle in a crack district are generally 

Eventually Mr. Goldsmith lost patience, and sold 
this valuable property to a former manager of his 



own — Mr. Hatsell Garrard. This gentleman had 
accompanied Mr. Goldsmith from England, and, it 
was said, had chosen for him the celebrated " Corn- 
borough," a son of Tramp, a grandson of Whalebone, 
and one of the grandest horses that ever looked 
through a bridle. A good judge of stock, both 
in England and Australia, how Mr. Garrard came 
to buy such a place is " one of the mysteries." 
The terms were easy, probably, and the price tempt- 
ing ; he thought " it couldn't hurt at the price." 
The homestead, too (Mr. Cunningham was a great 
improver), was now very comfortable. That and 
the name together did it. 

Mr. Garrard, who was a most genial, jolly, but 
withal tolerably shrewd old boy, kept the run for 
a year or two, just selling cattle enough to pay his 
way, when he dropped on a chance to " unload " and 
make a sale to Messrs. Moutray and Peyton. 

The former, like the seller, had abounding 
experience, had lived on an adjoining run, was 
quite capable of managing his own affairs, yet lie 
went into it with his eyes open. His only excuse 
was, that store cattle were worth £4 and ^5 a head 
" after the gold," and he thought he saw his way. 
His partner, Mr. Peyton, was a young Englishman 
of good family, vigorous and ardent, just the man 
to succeed in Australia, one would have thought. 
He was told exactly and truly by his friends all the 
bad points of the run ; but it was difficult in that 
day of high prices to find an investment for two 
or three thousand pounds, so he, being anxious to 
start, made the plunge. In a couple of years 
the partnership was dissolved, Moutray having 

xii GRASMERE 131 

saved some of his money, and Peyton having lost 
every shilling. 

They sold to Mr. Doughty, who had formerly 
owned a sheep station near Mount Gambier. He 
was a married man, and preferred, for some reasons, 
the Port Fairy district to live in. He was economi- 
cal, active, a famous horseman, and a good manager. 
He tried " all he knew," but was beaten in a little 
more than a year, and " gave it best." I heard of 
other purchasers, but about that time I severed my 
connection with the district and followed the fortune 
of St. Ruth's no further. Probably, if cleared, 
drained, laid down in grasses at the rate of £\o 
per acre, fenced and subdivided, it might, under the 
weeping western skies, produce good pasture. But 
it always was an unlucky spot. 

In the strongest contradistinction to St. Ruth's — 
a regular man-trap, and as pecuniarily fatal as if 
specially created for Murad the Unlucky — was the 
station generally known as " Blackfellows' Creek," 
lying east of Eumeralla. By the way, the original 
pathfinders of Port Fairy had a pretty fancy in 
the naming of their watercourses. There were Snaky 
Creek, Breakfast Creek, and, of course, Deep Creek 
and Sandy Creek. Now, this Blackfellows' Creek 
was as exceptionally good a station as St. Ruth's 
was "t'other way on." It was proverbially and 
eminently a fattening run ; and on the principle 
"who drives fat oxen should himself be fat," its 
owner, Mr. William Carmichael, was, and always had 
been, far and away the fattest man in the district. 



BLACKFELLOWS' Creek, or " Harton Hills," as the 
proprietor caused it to be designated when it com- 
menced to acquire fame and reputation, was a 
striking example of the well-known faith held by- 
experienced pastoralists, that a good run will 
manage itself, and make lots of money for its owner, 
whereas no amount of management will cause much 
difference in the profits or losses of a bad run. 

Blackfellows' Creek was proverbially managed 
" anyhow." There was a large herd of cattle upon 
it, which certainly enjoyed about the smallest 
amount of supervision of any cattle in the world, not 
being Red River bisons, Chillingham wild cattle, or 
the Bos primigenins. Twice a year they were 
mustered to brand ; a little oftcner, perhaps, to get 
out the fat cattle. Sometimes there was a stock- 
rider, often none at all for months. The owner 
enjoyed the inestimable advantage of having been 
born north of the Tweed, a fact which indisposed 
him to employ more labour than was absolutely 
necessary. It also prevented him from wasting his 


ready money on " improvements." The yards were 
generally referred to as a proof of how very little 
expenditure was really necessary on a cattle station. 
" I wish I'd been a Scotchman, Rolf," said Fred 
Burchett to me once, in a contemplative mood. " I 
should have had a good run and 20,000 sheep by 
this time." " True — most true, friend of my soul ; 
the same here — and we should not only have had 
them, — the acquisition is not so difficult, — but have 
kept them. That's where one division of the empire 
differs so much from the other." Now, the owner of 
Blackfellows' Creek, partly by reason of his abnormal 
girth and a sort of Athelstane-the-Unready kind of 
nature, never did anything. Yet he prospered ex- 
ceedingly, and waxed more and more wealthy and 
rotund. All the stock-riders in the district came 
cheerfully to his muster, knowing that they would 
be treated with a certain easy-going liberality, and, 
moreover, be sure to find quantities of unbranded 
calves and strayed stock, all in the best possible 
condition, and never driven off the run or impounded 
from the richly-abounding and carelessly -ordered 
pastures of Blackfellows' Creek. I myself secured 
at a muster, and sold there and then, a whole lot 
of fat bullocks to Mooney, the cattle-dealer, who 
was lifting a draft at the time. They were a 
portion of my Devil's River store lot, which had, 
with correct taste and calculation, taken up their 
abode at Blackfellows' Creek on the first winter of 
their arrival. They had not my station brand, 
but their own hieroglyph was sufficient to protect 
them in those Arcadian times. I received Mr. 
Mooney's perfectly negotiable cheque for a round 


sum. They had fattened up wonderfully, — great, 
raw-boned, old-fashioned Sydney-siders, — and looked 
like elephants. The only remark the owner of the 
run made on the transaction was, " As they had 
done so well, it was a pity that more of them hadn't 
come at the same time." 

It was indeed a lovely bit of country, speaking 
from a grazing standpoint. There was plenty of 
water in the Blackfellows' and other unpretending 
channels to provide for the stock in all seasons 
without obtrusive parade. The run itself consisted 
principally of open well-grassed forest land, with a 
large proportion of " stony rises," and several 
marshes, very useful in the summer. Not an acre 
of waste or indifferent land was there upon it. 
Nobody knew where the boundaries were, there 
being no natural features of any kind, and the 
current belief was that it was much larger than 
was generally supposed. It did not seem to have 
any of the ordinary drawbacks to which other 
squattagcs were exposed. In spite of its ill-omened 
name, the blacks had never been " bad " there. If 
they had killed a few cattle no one would have 
minded, and I have no doubt they would have 
discontinued the practice voluntarily. 

As a matter of course, the cattle were always 
" rolling fat." There was never the least trouble of 
selling a draft to be taken from the camp. The 
dealers gave the highest price, and bid against one 
another. Even the two-year-old steers were often 
taken, so " furnished " and " topped up " were they. 
How they were bred could never be ascertained, and 
was popularly supposed to be wholly unknown to 


any white man of the period. Bulls were seldom 
bought. Not the smallest trouble was taken about 
their breeding. No money was spent, except upon 
the stud, in which were some noble Clydesdales — on 
one of them, by the way, I once saw the proprietor, 
and very worthily mounted he was. The animal 
in question was a son of old Farmer's Favourite, 
a gigantic gray, no doubt having some blood on the 
side of the dam, and seventeen hands in height. 
He was active and well paced, and carried his 
nineteen stone most creditably. 

There were sheep on the run as well as cattle. 
From the richness of the soil and herbage they 
suffered a good deal with foot-rot, which they were 
permitted to cure by nature's own healing art. But 
they paid pretty well, too, growing a heavy fleece, 
and gradually increasing in numbers — shepherds, 
ailments, and occasional free selection by dingoes 

Mr. Carmichael either bought the place very 
early or " took it up " — the latter most likely. Such 
a property was, presumably, not often in the market ; 
but the proprietor told me that he had once placed 
it under offer, at what he doubtless considered a 
very fancy price, to Mr. Jack Buchanan, a handsome, 
spirited young Scot, who bought one of the Messrs. 
Boldens' runs — the Lake — in 1844. The extreme 
fancy price being £3 per head for the cattle and 
1 os. all round for the sheep, the run about a quarter 
stocked ! 

After the gold "broke out," the drafts of fat 
cattle from Harton Hills began to tell up in such 
figures on the right side of his banking account that 


the owner saw the necessity for acquiring the fee- 
simple. This was effected, like everything else 
there, without much trouble. A good house was 
built, fencing was put up. Thousands of acres 
were purchased, and the whole run pretty well 
" secured," out of its own profits solely, by the time 
the invasion of the free-selecting Goths and Vandals 
under Gavan Duffy's Act took place. Mr. Car- 
michael ultimately retired, and betook himself to a 
town life. But, however his idyll ended, no better 
example than Blackfellows' Creek ever demonstrated 
the soundness of the old squatting belief before 
alluded to, that the run is everything — stock, improve- 
ments, management, capital, etc., being all secondary 

It has been mentioned in the early portions of 
these reminiscences that the Mount Rouse station, 
originally taken up by Mr. John Cox, had been 
resumed by the Government of the day, represented 
by His Honour the Superintendent, and devoted to 
the use and benefit of the aborigines of the district. 
Some compunction seems to have been felt by Mr. 
La Trobe, a humane and highly-cultured person, 
at the rapid decrease and deterioration of the native 
race. Whether he originated the idea of an 
aboriginal protectorate, with a staff of officials 
known as " Black Protectors," I cannot state with 
precision. A certain missionary named Robinson 
had the credit of inducing the remnant of the wild 
men and women of Tasmania to surrender to the 
clemency of the Government. They were then, 
with a somewhat doubtful generosity, presented with 
an island, and maintained thereon at the charges 


of the State. It does not appear that they 
lacked henceforth any material comfort. But the 
fierce savages who had long harassed the outlying 
settlers, and who possessed considerably more " bull- 
dog " in the way of courage than their continental 
congeners, refused to thrive or multiply when 
" cabined, cribbed, confined," even though they had 
alternation of landscape in their island home, and 
but the restless sea for their encircling boundary. 
They pined away slowly ; but a few years since the 
last female of the race died. The monotonous 
comfort told on health and spirits. It was wholly 
alien to the constitution of the wild hunters and 
warriors who had been wont to traverse pathless 
woods, to fish in the depths of forest streams, to 
chase the game of their native land through the 
lone untrampled mead, or the hoar primeval forests 
which lay around the snow-crested mountain range. 

The missionary diplomatist displayed an amount 
of nerve and astuteness which would have led to 
promotion in other departments. He crossed the 
straits to Victoria, and, if I mistake not, held 
council with Mr. La Trobe. Whether propter hoc or 
only post hoc, an aboriginal protectorate was estab- 
lished, and Mr. Cox had the honour of giving up a 
property worth now say about ;£ 100,000 for the 
presumed advantage of the black brother. 

It was no trifling loss. Even in those days the 
" Mount Rouse Stones " was an expression which 
made the mouth of a cattleman to water. It was 
the richest run in a rich fattening district. The 
conical hill, so named, was an extinct volcano, which 
towered over a wide extent of lava country and 


open lightly-timbered forest. The lava lands alter- 
nated with great marshes. Strayed and other cattle 
found there, when recovered, were always spoken of 
by the stock-riders as being "mud-fat." When 
once cattle were turned out there they never seemed 
to have any inclination to roam, being instinctively 
aware, doubtless, that they could never hope to find 
such shelter, such pasture, such luxurious lodging 
anywhere else. 

I remember Charles Burchett remarking one day 
that it would be a fairly promising speculation to 
bring up a thousand head of store cattle and lose 
them at the foot of Mount Rouse ; after a short, 
unsuccessful search, to depart, and return in the 
autumn, when they would be sure to be found all 
fat, and within a dozen miles of the hill. He 
reflected for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, 
" I think a popular man might do it." 

However, there was no fighting with the powers 
that be in those days. There was no Parliament — 
no press of any great weight — no fierce democracy 
— no redress nearer than Sydney. It was " a far 
cry to Lochow." So Mr. Cox shifted his stock and 
servants out, and Dr. Watton moved in, took pos- 
session as Protector of Aborigines, and gathered to 
him the remnant of the former lords of the soil, with 
their wives and their little ones. The intention was 
humane ; the act was one of mercy and justice 
towards the fast-fading children of the waste ; but 
it never could be demonstrated to be more successful 
In results than the Tasmanian experiment. 

There were several protectorate stations estab- 
lished about the same time, one notably near Ballarat, 


one, I think, on the Wimmera, and one on the Murray. 
Long after a Moravian Mission was organised for 
their behoof at Lake Boga, near Swan Hill. All 
came to naught. The blacks visited them from time 
to time, when the season was unpropitious, or for 
other reasons. They were fed and clothed. The 
younger ones were taught to read and write, and 
received religious instruction. But the whole thing 
doubtless appeared to them unendurably dull and 
slow, and like all savages, and a largish proportion 
of whites, being passionately averse to monotony, 
they deserted by degrees, and pursued a more 
congenial career as wanderers through wood and 
wold, or as servants and labourers at the neigh- 
bouring stations. There they could earn money, 
and, I fear me, proceeded to " knock down " the 
same by means of periodic alcoholic indulgence, " as 
nat'ral as a white man." 

Meanwhile good old Dr. Watton, a genial, cultured 
English gentleman, lived a peaceful patriarchal life 
at Mount Rouse — not, I should imagine, vexing 
his soul unduly at the instability of the heathen. 
They were welcomed and kindly treated when they 
came, not particularly regretted when they chose 
to depart. All attempt at coercion would have 
been, of course, inexpedient and ludicrously ineffec- 
tive. So matters at the " Reservation " wore on. 
The doctor's small herd of cattle, the descendants of 
a few milch cows needed for the family, were won- 
derful to behold by reason of their obesity, as they 
lay and lounged about the spring which trickled 
down a plough-furrow in front of the cottage. 

The pastoralists never approved of the protectorate 


system. They accused certain of the protectors — 
not the gentlemen to whom I refer — of instructing 
the blacks that if whites shot them it would be con- 
sidered murder, and the offenders hanged, but that if 
they speared the cattle or the stockmen occasionally, 
it was only, let us say, an error of judgment, for 
which they would not suffer death. This probably 
was an exaggeration, and some allowance must be 
made for the habitual antagonism of pioneers to 
" Injuns" of any sort or kind. 

If these establishments did no particular good, 
they did no harm. They afforded shelter to the 
aged and infirm of both sexes, and they attempted, 
in all good faith, to teach the young the great 
truths of the Christian's hope in life and death. 
Still, I know but of one instance where any per- 
manent educational good resulted to the pure race. 
Yet I took much interest in the question, and 
remember watching closely the career of a highly 
intelligent half-caste, who had been brought up by 
Mr. Donald M'Leod at Moruya. He was a tall, 
well-made man, intelligent, " reliable," and shrewd. 
He married a respectable emigrant girl. They had 
two children, and a situation under Cobb and Co. 
At this stage of ethnological interest a snake bit 
him. The poor fellow died, and 1 lost the oppor- 
tunity of watching the development of the mixed 

After the Mount Rouse aboriginal station had 
been devoted to this philanthropical purpose for a 
certain number of years, it became gradually apparent 
to the official mind, from the well-nigh complete dis- 
appearance of aboriginals, that its utility had ceased. 


It was accordingly disestablished. One would have 
thought that the obviously fair thing would have 
been to have handed back the right of run to the 
former owner. This was before any gospel of free 
selection had been preached, and while the " poor 
man " was still a harmless, contented unit of the body 
politic, ignorant of his wrongs, and unacquainted with 
the fatal flavour of vote by ballot. The license could 
have been granted afresh to Mr. Cox or his executors, 
and no one would have thought of protesting. But 
no ! With a certain cheese-paring economy, of which 
Governments are often justly accused, it was decided 
to let the right of run by tender. Though assess- 
ments were high enough, no one in those days 
dreamed of offering more than ^200 or £300 
annually for the mere grass right of any run. Mount 
Rouse was hardly improved in any way. Every one 
was considerably astonished when it was proclaimed 
that the tender of the Messrs. Twomey had been 
accepted for £900 per annum ! This was a rental 
for the waste lands of the Crown with a vengeance ! 
It was thought that it never would pay the daring 
speculators. However, the event showed that the 
Messrs. Twomey had gauged the capabilities of the 
run accurately enough. They had a small station 
close by, and had made their calculations justly. 
They put sheep on, fenced, and presumably made 
money thereby, as they eventually purchased the 
greater portion of the freehold. 



This was the well-known name of an exceedingly 
choice run close to Nareeb Nareeb, on Muston's 
Creek, and at an early period in the occupation of 
the Messrs. Charles, Henry, and Fred Burchett. The 
name was allotted by Charles, who said that as 
the old country places were christened " The Oaks," 
" The Ashes," " The Beeches," and so on, he thought 
it befitting that an Australian homestead should 
be known as " The Gums." So mote it be ; and I 
fancy Mr. Ross, the present owner, has by no means 
changed the name. 

Charles Burchett was a humourist of the first 
water, and as such delighted in by his numerous 
friends. The district was hardly ever without the 
excitement of " Burchett's last." He had a serious, 
tentative, doubtful way of bringing out his good 
things, which heightened the effect. 

" The Gums," like Dunmore, boasted a better 
library than ordinary, and there was set on foot the 
Mount Rouse Book Club, which, founded on a 
moderate subscription, and compelling members to 

chap, xiv BURCHETT OF " THE GUMS" 143 

send round the books at monthly intervals, pro- 
vided mental food for a goodly number of friends 
and neighbours. 

Charles Burchett and his brother Fred were both 
somewhat deaf. Whether or not the slight infirmity 
concentrated the reflective powers, certain it is that 
they resembled each other closely in being excep- 
tionally original and amusing in conversation. 

Occasionally Mr. Charles Burchett's difficulty in 
hearing led to diverting cross purposes, as in the case 
of his celebrated interview with the bushrangers. 
He and a friend, it is related, some time in the early 
days, met with two men, one of whom carried a gun. 
They addressed themselves to his companion, who 
appeared to be, from the expression of his counte- 
nance, much interested in their remarks. 

Mr. Burchett looked at them with an inquiring 
air. " What do they want, Scott ? " he said, in his 
resonant, high-pitched voice, accentuating always 
the last word of the sentence. " Do they want 
work ? " 

None of them could help laughing, it is said ; but 
the man with the gun, observing the gentleman place 
his hand to his ear, raised the gun sharply to a level 
with his breast, by way of explaining matters. 

Again Mr. Burchett looked up with a grave and 
meditative expression. Then he addressed the 
spoiler — " I say, take away that gun, it might go off." 
Even the hardened old hand was not proof against 
this characteristic jest ; he put down his gun in order 
to laugh in comfort. However, it was explained 
that business was business. So having relieved Mr. 
Burchett and his friend of their horses and loose 


cash, the robbers departed. But they behaved with 
civility, and a ten-mile walk was the worst of the 
affair. The horses were afterwards found at no great 
distance from the spot, and returned to their owners. 
Unfortunately, as it happened, the fraternal trium- 
virate at "The Gums" held diverse opinions as to 
the stock upon which to stake the fortunes of the 
firm. Henry Burchett was gifted with a strongly 
arithmetical turn, in consequence of which he was 
generally alluded to by Charles as " my brother 
Cocker." A calculation of the average value of the 
wool -clip led him doubtless to decide — with con- 
siderable accuracy, as events proved — in favour of 
sheep. Charles and Fred preferred cattle. In the 
end Charles sold his share of run and stock, and 
commenced a business in Melbourne. Having made 
a pilgrimage to Riverina, riding one wiry hackney 
the whole way there and back, without apparent 
distress to man or beast, Henry posed as the apostle 
of a new faith on his return, after beholding, near 
Deniliquin, what he then decided to be the true 
home of the merino sheep, and purchasing for a small 
price a certain run on the Billabong, since tolerably 
well known to wool-buyers as " Coree." He bought 
sheep with which to stock it, and removed those 
still at " The Gums." He it was who first placed 
a dam across the uncertain watercourse of the 
Billabong, and thus aided the inception of the great 
system of water-storage now so universal. It was 
a primitive time enough on the Billabong, one may 
be sure. The late Mr. Sylvanus Daniel was a man 
in authority at Deniliquin, then known as one of 
" The Royal Bank " stations. Some of his good 


stones the wayfarer from Port Fairy brought back 
with him, so that the fame of that gentleman's 
hospitality and genial temperament reached the 
colony of Victoria years before he migrated to the 
north-western district of New South Wales. 

Henry Burchett retained his share in "The Gums" 
after his purchase of Coree, but, wishing to concen- 
trate his investments, he — unfortunately for his partner 
and himself — decided to realise on the Port Fairy 
property. The sale of "The Gums" accordingly took 
place. It was, of course, before the gold — only one 
year I think. The price of a first-class, well-improved, 
fattening run, with a good herd of 1 500 cattle thereon, 
was — what does any one think ? — £2 per head ! 
Yes, at this melancholy price did " The Gums " pass 
into the hands of Mr. Henry Gottreaux, a gentleman 
lately arrived in the colony, formerly in the Austrian 
service. He was a brother of William Gottreaux, of 
Lilaree ; he had, therefore, the advantage of the 
advice of an experienced colonist. 

Mr. Gottreaux did not look, to our eyes, the " man 
for Galway " ; or likely to make much out of a 
cattle run in those hard -riding, hard -living days. 
Tall and soldierly -looking, with a big moustache, 
he had a bluff, German-baron sort of air. He was 
portly withal, and, though a cavalry man, not up 
to much in the " cutting-out " or cattle-muster line. 
The first thing to which he devoted his energies 
was the building of a spacious, wide-verandahed brick 
cottage, dooming the snug old slab homestead, where 
we had all spent so many pleasant hours, to do duty 
as barracks and out-offices. After this he inquired of 
one of the visitors, who, after our custom, had come 



to help at the muster, whether it would not be easy 
to transmit his share of the profits to a friend in 
England, who had an interest — as a sleeping partner 
— in the station. 

The man whom he addressed smiled inwardly, 
and sardonically replied, " Very easy." We thought 
this a good joke when it was handed over to us a 
week after. But Mr. Gottreaux was right, and we 
were all wrong, proving how difficult it was to decide 
in such matters unless all the factors of the sum 
are in view. In the first place, the new proprietor 
was a man of brains and method, culture and 
knowledge of the world. He did not scurry about 
in the camp on the stock-horse of the period — it 
was not his mttier ; but he paid and controlled a 
good stock-rider who did. He lived comfortably, 
preferring, reasonably, to dine at ease after the 
business of the day was concluded. But he kept 
his accounts correctly, and provided that the balance 
should be on the right side. The seasons were 
favourable ; they are rarely otherwise in the pleasant 
west country, to the green pastures of which fate had 
guided the " bold Uhlan." And then — trump card 
of all — the Gold Magician played shortly afterwards, 
lie threw down an ace — waved his wand. The cattle 
which our friend purchased at £ 2, with right of run 
added, became worth £10 per head. So he had 
profits to remit to his partner after all, by no means 
of small annual amount either. 

Terenallum was in early days the property of 
Messrs. Lang and Elms, who considered it a fairly 
paying sheep run, though bare of timber and rather 
desolate of aspect. Disadvantageously for the firm, 


as it turned out, Mr. Elms, the resident partner, was 
tempted by what was then thought to be a high price 
— 12s. per head or so, with about one-third of the 
stock it afterwards carried — to sell to Mr. Russell 
of The Leigh. He invested in a presumably richer 
country between The Grange and the Eumeralla, 
and, I should think, never ceased to regret the 
exchange. The new runs were chiefly cattle country, 
being well-grassed forest, not over dry in winter, and 
therefore in those days looked upon as liable to 
foot-rot. The eastern subdivision, called " Lyne," 
was at no great distance from Mr. Cox's Werrongourt 
station. This transaction illustrates the errors of 
judgment so often made by pioneer squatters, men 
of exceeding shrewdness and energy notwithstanding. 
So George Wyndham Elms sold Terenallum, now 
proverbially one of the most valuable sheep properties 
west of the Barwon, and purchased a run which 
must have paid indifferent interest on capital for 
long afterwards. Yet the seller was sufficiently ex- 
perienced, could work with both hands and head, 
had confronted all the regulation pioneer troubles — 
bad shepherds, blacks, low wool, everything — had 
shepherded on a pinch, and slept in a watch-box. 
Then, when all was well and a fortune coming to 
meet him, he was fated to ruin everything for the 
sake of change. Mais, telle est la vie. 

Lyne and the other station were good enough, 
fairly watered, splendidly grassed, and so on ; but the 
cautious critics said they would never make up for 
Terenallum. And they didn't. 

The original cattle had been neglected, it would 
appear. Among them was a large proportion of 


bullocks which declined with fiendish obstinacy to 
fatten. They would do anything but go off to the 
butcher. They oppressed the rest of the herd, 
showed a bad example, and paid nothing. They 
were what are known by the stock-riders as " ragers " 
or " pig-meaters." Fierce of aspect, and active as 
buffaloes, they appear with regularity at each muster, 
but are never permitted the chance of road-adventure 
with any buyer of fat cattle. The price offered for 
them is generally so small that in many instances 
the owner ceases to form plans for their conversion 
into cash, and, if easy-going, permits them to eat 
grass and demoralise the herd indefinitely. The 
run was now worked with fair results for a year 
or two, but it soon became apparent that it was 
not likely to return the same sort of dividends 
which were so satisfactory each year at Terenallum. 
This probably tended towards discussion between 
the partners. However that might have been, a 
division of the runs took place. Mr. Lang retained 
Lyne, with the herd of cattle depastured thereon, 
while Mr. Elms removed to that portion of the area 
which lay nearer to the town of Hamilton. Upon 
this he built a new homestead, and proceeded to 
convert it into a sheep station. 

Mr. Lang had visited England more than once 
during the partnership, and so loosened his hold 
upon matters colonial. It has generally happened, 
within my experience at least, that a squatter who 
permitted himself to behold " the kingdoms of the 
earth, and the glory of them," rarely settled down 
into a contented colonist upon returning to Australia. 
So Mr. Lang put Lyne into the market. It was 


sold to Captain Stanley Carr, a retired military 
officer, who had passed years at a German court, 
and held property in Silesia. There, it seems, he 
had acquired a taste for high-class merinoes. He 
had been tempted to visit Australia, probably as 
a larger field for investment, bringing with him 
some good sheep of the type then prevailing, and 
fashionable in the country of his adoption. These 
were sent to Lyne, where they were only moderately 
praised by the sheepholders of the district, being 
acknowledged to be fine as to quality of fleece, 
but considered small and delicate of frame. 

Captain Stanley Carr, by birth Scoto-Irish, was 
a genial and polished personage, not altogether 
averse to the privilege accorded to travellers, but 
most amusing and agreeable. He bought, as did 
Mr. Gottreaux, " before the gold." The price he paid 
was therefore moderate, leaving a large margin for 
profit in the rising markets which were imminent, 
and of which he shortly experienced the advantage. 
Residing for a few months at Lyne, he made himself 
popular with his neighbours, who were nothing loath 
to visit and entertain a courtier, a man of the world, 
and a raconteur at once so experienced and original. 
He justified the shrewd outlook upon events which 
had caused him to become an investor in the first 
instance, by prophesying an extraordinary develop- 
ment of Australian prosperity which was to be 
rapid and astonishing. The soil, the climate, the 
extent of the waste lands of the Crown, all excited 
his admiration. The captain's pre-auriferous predic- 
tions have since received curiously close fulfilment. 

Our gallant pastoral comrade had some knowledge 


of sheep-farming. For the management of a mixed 
herd of cattle, after the Australian fashion, he was as 
unfitted as the confidential German shepherd of his 
priceless Silesian ewes to " run " a South American 
saladero. Wisely, therefore, he took the neighbours 
into his confidence, requesting the advice which 
was cheerfully given. He was, in the first instance, 
by them adjured to cull the herd severely — to that 
end to eliminate without delay all the bovine 
" larrikins " (the word had not then been coined, 
but an analogous social remedy may yet in future 
ages be legally applicable) by boiling them down. 
There happened to be at Port Fairy in that 
brooding year just before the gold — and what 
embryo events were not then ripening in the 
womb of fate! — a regularly -appointed saladero. 
How much more concise is the expression than " a 
boiling-down establishment where salting beef for 
exportation is also carried on," and yet foolish 
utilitarians see no advantage in schoolboys learning 
Greek and Latin. But this savours of digression. 
Such an institution was then in full working 
order, organised for the reduction of the " dangerous 
classes " of the bovine neighbourhood into tallow 
and corned beef. It was managed by Mr. M'Cracken, 
and (of course) subsidised by Mr. William Rutledge. 
" Unto this last " the Lyne larrikins were by a 
consensus of notables forthwith relegated. 



The captain's first cattle -muster was fixed for a 
certain day. I had the honour of being invited 
specially to superintend the classing and drafting of 
the bullocks, retaining the presumably marketable, 
and condemning the irreconcilables. I was happy 
to accede, but a slight difficulty stood in the way. 
The night preceding the muster had been devoted 
to the coming ball at Dunmore, an anxiously- 
anticipated festivity, to which all Port Fairy was 
bidden, and from which no loyal Western man 
could be absent if alive. Certainly not the writer, 
Terpsichore's not least ardent votary. The difficulty 
was to combine drafting and dancing with a con- 
scientious attention to both. " Minorca lies in the 
middle sea." Lyne is half-way between Dunmore 
and Hamilton — over twenty miles anyhow. The 
drafting would commence at sunrise — the dancing 
would continue till daylight. Such trivial discrep- 
ancies were negotiable, however, 

Ere nerve and sinew began to fail 
In the consulship of Plancus. 


The ball was in its way perfect, " with music, 
moonlight, love, and flowers," probably in the usual 
proportions. Daylight found the revellers still 
unsated ; but an hour before the first tremulous 
dawn wavelet rippled over the pale sky-line I had 
doffed the canonicals, slipped on boots and breeches, 
mounted my favourite hackney — "The Gaucha"to 
wit — and was stretching out along the track to 
Eumeralla at the rate of twelve miles an hour. 

The summer morn was refreshingly cool, the first 
hour's ride delicious ; then an increasing drowsiness 
made itself felt, and ere long I would have given all 
the world to lie down under a tree and sleep till 
noon. But the inclination was sternly repressed, and 
less than another hour's ride brought the creek in 
view, below the blackwood-crowned slopes of Lyne, 
one of the loveliest spots in all the West. The 
position of the stock-yard was denoted from afar by 
the great cloud of dust which rose pillar-like to the 
clear sky, while the " roaring " of the restless, excited 
cattle had been audible long before the dust-cloud 
was visible. 

It was a lovely, clear, summer morning ; yet, 
as I rode onward, the sentence of Holy Writ kept 
ceaseless iteration through my brain as curiously 
apposite, while ever and anon through the green 
forest echoed the deep-resounding lowing of the im- 
prisoned herd — " And the smoke of their torment 
ascendeth for ever." As I rode up to the yard a 
score of stock-horses stood under the trees. The 
ocean of unbroken greenery that lay to the eastward 
was flame-tinted by the rising sun, but, early as was 
the hour, work had begun. Joe Twist of Werron- 


gourt, and Mackay of Eumeralla, were at the 
drafting gates ; the cattle were running through. I 
was just in time to enter upon my duty as classifier, 
at which arduous and delicate task I continued 
till noon. A half-hour for the mid-day meal, a 
few minutes' grace while pipes are lighted, then 
through the long, dusty hours of the hot after- 
noon the laborious, exciting work is ceaselessly 
carried on. Strangers and pilgrims, calves and 
clear-skins, are separated at the same time. The 
sun declines, dips lower still, and lower. The day is 
done, and a highly respectable amount of necessary 
work has been performed. The liberated herd 
streams back in a score of droves to familiar 
pastures. Two hundred and twenty " boilers " are 
safe in the small yard, the which will be started 
for their last drive on the following morning. The 
stock -riders are accommodated on the station. 
Some ride home — those who had no calves or stray 
cattle on their minds ; the rest remain, ready to 
give a hand with the boiling -down draft next 
day. I partake of Captain Carr's hospitality, 
warmly thanked for my exertions. Do I not doze 
off almost before the evening's meal is concluded ? 
I beg to be excused on the ground of fatigue, and 
depart incontinently for bed thereafter. Do I 
turn round until sunrise next morning? I trow 

But I was soon in the saddle then, and away 
with the drove referred to. What a rush they made 
when the gate was opened ! — what a pace they went 
for the first mile or two ! I can see Joe Twist now 
on his favourite stock-horse — a steed that even his 


master cared not to ride without his permission — going 
like a Comanchee Indian, the merest trifle less than 
racing speed, parallel with a tossing forest of horns, 
his bridle-hand low, his stock-whip raised threaten- 
ingly, the eager horse's head now on the ground, 
now raised higher than a nervous rider would choose. 
Was there another man " steadying the lead " on the 
opposite side, right well mounted also, gallant in the 
pride of youthful horsemanship and the full inspira- 
tion of " God's glorious oxygen " ? It may have 
been so. Ah me ! those were pleasant days. 
Would they might return ! Even as I write, 

Still comes the memory sweet 

Of bygone hours, long-gathered flowers 
Pressed by our youth's gay feet. 

It may not have been wholly in the interests of 
an Australian merino principality that our shores 
were honoured by the captain's company and capital. 
With him — and to a certain extent, it was under- 
stood, indebted to his guardianship — came a Prince 
of Augustenburg, who had not then succeeded to his 
present exalted position. This royal personage was 
apparently not deeply interested in the pastoral life 
of Australia, and remained to the last unconcerned 
about the weights and fineness of fleece of merino 
sheep. Providence had arranged his destiny so as 
to be unaffected by the wool market, or even by 
the prevalence of dry seasons. He also spoke 
English indifferently, and, thus handicapped, pre- 
ferred the sylvan shades of Toorak and the 
tempered solitude of a club smoking-room to the 
primeval waste. His more mercurial senior mean 


while utilised his colonial experience to some 
purpose, as the sequel will show. 

Possibly a strict provincial life at Lyne became 
monotonous after the " boilers " had realised some 
30s. per head. The Ballarat diggers would have 
eaten them gaily at £7 or £& each a year or two 
after, but we did not forecast that and a few other 
unimportant changes. After the calves were branded, 
after the German shepherd had with paternal care 
cured the Silesians of foot-rot — (how different from 
the demeanour of Australian Corydon purring at his 
foul pipe, and double-blanking the sheep, with every- 
body connected with the place, from the ration- 
carrier upwards, as he pares the offending hoof) — 
after these, and divers other engrossing duties, had 
helped to hurry along the stream of Time, the captain 
delegated such and the like, permanently, to Mr. 
J. R. Nowlan, a gentleman who dwelt hard by, con- 
stituting him his managing partner. He then betook 
himself with his Prince back to Europe, via Panama, 
a route then coming into fashion with Australian 
home-returning voyagers. The travellers — including, 
I think, Messrs. Lang and Winter — had nearly com- 
pleted their foreign tour in an abrupt and melancholy 
fashion. While crossing the Chagres river (I will 
not certify as to the name, but, if doubtful on the 
point, communicate with Baron Lesseps, Captain 
Mayne Reid, and Mr. Frederick Boyle) their light 
bark sprang a leak. They were partly canoe-wrecked, 
and left by their boatman upon a sandbank in the 
mid -stream of a big, rapid river, swarming with 
alligators. The river was rising, which tended to 
limit their period of security. In this strait, a small 


dug-out was seen approaching from the farther 
bank. The Indian paddler explained by pantomime 
that he could take but two. That was self-evident. 
One passenger even suggested risk. Then arose a 
generous contention. To the Prince was unani- 
mously yielded the pas. The second place the 
captain was prayed to take. " No," said the gallant 
veteran ; " you fellows have all the world before you. 
I have had my innings, and a deuced good one 
too. Mot qui parle ! Get in, either of you ; I'm 
dashed if I do." The time was rapidly growing 
shorter ; the sandbank contracting its area. The 
boatman gesticulated. The alligators, presumably, 
were expectant. It was no time for overstrained 
ceremony. One of the squatters stepped in, and 
the frail craft swirled into the eddying current. It 
returned in time, and the Greytown Herald missed 
a sensational paragraph. 

That was in other respects an exciting trip. 
Mr. Lang found himself, when at Panama, relegated 
to a huge dormitory, crowded like a sixpenny 
boarding-house. Comforting himself with the re- 
flection that it was but for a night, he invoked 
Somnus, all vainly. The groans of a sick man 
on the next couch forbade repose. " What's the 
matter with him ? " he inquired at length of his 
nearest " strange bedfellow." " Only Isthmus fever," 
was the answer. My friend shuddered, knowing how 
the railway labourers were even then being decimated. 

" And why is the bed between you and me 
vacant ? " he went on to inquire. " They buried a 
cholera patient out of it this morning. You don't 
happen to have a cigar, do you ? " 


It was too late to retreat. The streets were 
none too safe. But it may well be believed that 
the ex-owner of Lyne wished himself back among 
the blackwood trees, or even in the stock -yard, 
were the day ever so dusty, and what delicately 
constituted persons term oppressive. And when the 
red sun aroused him from the troubled slumber 
which ended the night's unrest, he naturally doubted 
whether cholera or " the fever " would first lay upon 
him a fatal grasp. 

Mr. Nowlan, an experienced manager, after 
Captain Carr's departure " worked " Lyne pretty 
vigorously, selling the original herd as they became 
fit for market, and putting on store cattle to the full 
carrying capacity of the run. The gold discovery of 
course transmuted profits magically. At the first 
onset of the revolution, cattle stations reaped most 
of the benefit, so much less labour being required 
than on sheep stations. Within a few years not 
only had large profits been realised for the partner- 
ship, but the value of the property had quintupled. 
An estate of freehold land had been purchased 
at Melton, near Melbourne, from the profits of fat 
stock. A thousand head of cattle more than the 
station had been purchased with were now depas- 
tured. At the post-auriferous prices then obtaining, 
Lyne, with 3000 head of cattle, was a very 
different property from that which Captain Carr 
had originally purchased. 

At this stage a plenipotentiary from Captain 
Carr arrived in the person of Baron von Loesecke, a 
jolly, blue-eyed, fair-bearded Teuton, who had mar- 
ried his only daughter and heiress. He prudently 


concluded to sell. Lyne and the Melton property 
were accordingly, " on a future day, of which," 
etc., put up to auction by, I think, Messrs. Kaye 
and Butchart. 

The Baron used to remind us at the Melbourne 
Club a good deal of Monsieur le Comte de Florae, 
in the character of his sentiments and the quality of 
his English. He was good-natured, effusive, polite, 
though ready to resent any criticism which he did 
not interpret as friendly. " Do you think he in- 
tended himself to be satirical for me?" he once 
inquired, with earnestness ; " if I thought so, I would 
challenge him on the instant." The challenge did 
not come off, and it need hardly be said that no 
offence was intended to a guest and a foreigner. 
The day of sale came off, and as we walked up 
from the Club the Baron requested a friend to 
bid for him the amount of the reserve price, which 
had been fixed, I think, at £6 or £$ : 15s. per 
head. The run was, if anything, overstocked. 
As a number of stores had been recently put on, it 
was thought a fair price. Whatever it was, owing 
to a misconception, he went £500 higher than he 
had been instructed to do. The bidding was not 
very brisk towards the end, the sale trembled on the 
balance for a minute or two, then the purchaser 
came forward and made a further advance. The 
station was knocked down to him. The Baron 
rushed up to his friend and shook his hand enthusi- 
astically ; "You have made for me ^500," he said, 
"but I did hold my breath till the next offaire 
arrive." Mr. Nowlan, as well as the captain, his heirs 
and assigns, must have realised handsomely from the 

xv WORK AND PLA Y 159 

proceeds of Lyne. Purchased for less than £4000, 
it fetched nearly £20,000, not reckoning intervening 
profits and the Melton freehold. It afforded one 
more illustration of the strangely-assorted luck which 
apparently besets colonial investments, the occasional 
success of outsiders, not less than the hard measure 
too often dealt out to pioneers. 

I am not aware whether the last purchaser of 
Lyne found the scale of profits perennial. I doubt 
it, inasmuch as Duffy's Act followed, bringing darker 
days for the squatter. Fortune did not favour the 
original owners either. Cheery and full of pluck to 
the last, George Elms sailed for Fiji, as after an 
interval did his old comrade Lang — pleasant, ever- 
courteous " Allan-a-Dale." It was the fashionable 
" rush " for a while. They lie at rest under the 
whispering palm. Perhaps, ere the last slumber, the 
murmur of the surges had lulled to sleep all bitter 
memories of the wild southland in which their early 
manhood was passed. 



In a recent advertisement in the Australasian I 
observed public notice to be given that " the rich 
agricultural lands of the Kangatong estate, near 
Port Fairy, would be subdivided at an early date, and 
sold in farms to suit purchasers." What changes 
time doth bring ! When I first saw the ground 
referred to, then known as " Cox's Heifer Station," 
how could one divine the transformation it was 
fated to undergo ? As little in 1 844 was pre- 
vision possible of the separate sale notices in 
which it would figure as the years rolled on. It 
epitomises the history of the district, perhaps of the 

First of all, " that well-known fattening station 
known as Kangatong, with choice herd of cattle, 
stock -horses given in," etc. Then, "that fully 
improved, fenced, and subdivided sheep property, 
of which the wool is so favourably known to Mel- 
bourne buyers." Again, " that valuable pastoral 
estate of Kangatong, comprising 35,000 (let us 
say) acres of freehold " ; and now, lastly, " those 


rich agricultural lands, divided into farms to suit 

All these progressive wonders were to be evolved 
from the lone primeval waste upon which a solitary- 
horseman then gazed in the autumn of i 844. And 
the wand of the squatter-sorcerer was to do it all. 
I might then have seen lakelets glittering in the sun, 
orchards and cornfields, barns and stables, mansion and 
offices, a village in itself, the spacious wool-shed and 
the scientific wash-pen, had 1 possessed the prophetic 
eye. But Fate held her secrets closely then as now. 
Only the vast eucalyptus forest, stretching unbroken 
to the horizon, waved its sombre banners before me. 
Only the scarce-trodden meadows of the waste lay 
unfed, untouched around me. I beheld a pastoral 
paradise without so much as a first inhabitant, and 
at which the very beasts of the field had hardly 
arrived. It was a spectacle sufficiently solemn to 
have awed a democrat, to have imbued even the 

Arch-Anti , well, Anti- Capitalist, with some 

respectful consideration for pioneers, whether in toil 
or triumph. How I appeared on the scene at 
this particular juncture came about in this 

When I first arrived in Port Fairy, the " Heifer 
Station " was what would be called in mining parlance 
" an abandoned claim," and possibly " jumpable," to 
use another effective expression with which the 
gold-fields have enriched the Australian vernacular. 
Mr. John Cox of Werrongourt had reconsidered his 
first intention of segregating the immature females 
of his herd — probably as too expensive — had with- 
drawn them and their herdsmen, leaving hut and 



yards untenanted, the run unoccupied. This last was 
now for sale with " improvements." I really can't 
recall the date of that comprehensive euphemism, 
which included everything, from a watch-box to a 
wool-shed, from a brush-yard to a family mansion. 
Perhaps about the time when the children of married 
servants advertised for were feelingly referred to as 
" encumbrances." 

However, improvements and encumbrances not- 
withstanding, we must get on with our " Heifer 
Station " history. Here it was for sale, with one hut, 
one log-yard, and the right to 40,000 acres, more 
or less, of first-class pasture — for how much ? 
Would I could get the offer again ! Thirty pounds ! 
This was the price — everybody knew it. Mr. Cox 
wanted to sell — had plenty of country at Werron- 
gourt — couldn't be bothered with it. The best 
thing I could do was to go and see it, or close for 
it at once. Mr. Cox was in Tasmania just at 
present, but had, of course, left instructions. Thus 
far the friendly public. I thought I would go and 
see. So I mounted Clifton, the grandson of Skeleton, 
and turned my face to the setting sun. Making my 
way to Tarrone, where at that time Mr. Chamberlain 
lived, I explained to him the object of my tourist 
wandering. I was most hospitably received. It 
turned out afterwards that he had had a hint that I 
wanted to " sit down " somewhere in his neighbour- 
hood. The runs at that time were, as may be 
imagined, very sparsely stocked. If the Com- 
missioner of Crown Lands was in a bad temper, he 
had the power to " give away " to the interloper a 
seriously appreciable portion of any pastoral area, 


however long established and secure the occupant 
might fancy himself to be. 

So, as he afterwards told one of the neighbours, he 
determined to show me every courtesy ; after which, 
appealing to all chivalrous feelings in my nature, 
he felt that I could not, in common decency, annex 
any portion of his (Mr. Chamberlain's) run. This was 
a shade of diplomacy sometimes roughly described 
as characteristic of " the old soldier." If so, my 
host's military experiences, as on another historical 
occasion, served him well. When I left Tarrone that 
morning, with a guide, towards the Heifer Station, I 
would have driven on to Western Australia — a pastoral 
Vanderdecken — rather than infringe on the tolerably 
liberal boundaries which he claimed for Tarrone. 

I rode along and passed the great Tarrone Marsh, 
with its well-defined wooded banks and its miles 
upon miles of mournful reeds, wild-duck and bittern 
haunted. My guide pointed out to me a place 
where, riding one day a mare that he described as 
" touchy," by the edge of the marsh, suddenly a 
blackfellow jumped out from behind a tree — " a sal- 
vage man accoutred proper." The touchy mare 
gave so sudden a prop, accompanied by a desperate 
plunge, that he was thrown almost at the feet of the 
" Injun." Others appeared — like Roderick Dhu's 
clansmen — from every bush and " stony rise," which 
had till this moment sheltered them. He raised 
himself doubtfully, much expectant of evil ; relations 
had certainly been strained of late between the races. 
However, they did not (apparently) kill him, he being 
there to relate the story. I forget what trifle pre- 
vented them. 


Then he proceeded to sketch the " lay of the 
country." Told me (of course) that " I couldn't miss 
the place if I followed the swamp round for two or 
three miles, then made for the east a bit, till I came 
to some thickish country, then to look out for a ti- 
tree crick as would lead down to the main crick. 
I'd cut the tracks where they had been tailing the 
heifers. Then I'd see the hut and yard." He then 
went on his way, having " to run in a beast to kill," 
and I saw him no more. No track, no road, no 
bridle-path was there, no known thoroughfare ; while, 
after you left the great Tarrone Marsh, there was not 
a landmark to speak of within twenty miles, not a 
bit of open country the size of a corn-patch. A long, 
solitary, unsatisfactory day lay before me. Some- 
times I was pretty sure I was on the " run " ; at other 
times I was confident that I was off it. I found 
the creek a minute but permanent-looking rivulet, 
with occasional water-holes. The hut and yards were 
on this watercourse ; both inexpensive structures. 
I saw, however, that the whole country-side was 
covered with a sward of kangaroo grass two or 
three feet high, and as thick as a field of barley. No 
doubt it was good fattening country, but I did not 
take to it somehow. It was a " blind " place, in 
stock-riders' phrase — no open country, no contrasts, 
no romance about it in fact. " Toujours gum- 
tree," as Sir Edward Deas Thomson said when he 
drove Sir Charles Fitzroy and Colonel Mundy — 
somewhere about that time — with a four-in-hand 
drag to Coombing, near Carcoar. I didn't fancy it 
altogether, good though the grass undoubtedly was. 
I managed to make my way back to Tarrone that 


night, where I recruited after the toils of the day. 
I informed my gallant and politic host that I 
thought I should go farther west. We parted on 
the morrow — to his relief, doubtless — with feelings 
of high mutual consideration. 

Years afterwards we had many a laugh about the 
fright I gave him ; and when I was safely settled at 
Squattlesea Mere, less than twenty miles to the west- 
ward, I nearly concluded an agreement with him to 
rent Tarrone for five years, with the option of 
purchase, while he went to England. This was a 
year or two before the gold. The rental asked for 
run, herd (the same numbers, ages, and sexes to be 
returned), and homestead was calculated upon the 
fat cattle prices of the period — £2 : 10s. for cows, 
£3 for fat bullocks ; so was the purchase money. I 
often thought how awfully sold my friend and neigh- 
bour would have been, as a shrewd man of business, 
not wholly unmindful of the main chance, had I 
closed with his offer. I finally declined it on the 
ground of the run being fully stocked up — our bete 
noir in those deliciously simple days, when we 
thought it took ten acres, more or less, to fatten a 

But though it was not considered good form to 
settle down too close to a man's horse paddock, it 
would never have done to have taken the first occu- 
pier's word for what was his lawful right of run. By 
his own account there was never any permanent water 
" out back." All the decent land within twenty miles 
was his ; the best thing the intending pastoralist 
could do was to go clean out of the district. Had 
the Dunmore people listened thus dutifully to Mr. 


Hunter of Eumeralla, they would never have 
taken up Dunmore, which, in the future, turned out 
a more valuable property than Eumeralla. 

Nor would the Messrs. Aplin have got St. Kitts, 
the runs of Yambuk and Tarronc being popularly 
supposed to absorb all the available country between 
their boundaries. Mr. Lemann, however, managed 
to insert himself and his belongings, wedge-fashion, 
between Tarrone and Kangatong, on the border of 
the Tarrone Marsh. Though small of stature, and 
not stalwart, he held his own, and fattened a 
decent average of his herd of iooo or 1200 head 
annually until he sold out to Mr. Smith. Mr. 
Lemann had formerly been a kind of neighbour of 
ours, having fed his herd previously in the vicinity 
of a creek running into the Upper Yarra, near a flat 
which, if I mistake not, is known as " Lemann's 
Swamp " to this day. 

He was a well-informed man, who took a great 
interest in liberal politics. I well recollect his being 
filled with righteous wrath at the high-handed act of 
Rajah Brooke in making a clean sweep of a fleet of 
pirates. I said then, and have since been confirmed 
in my opinion, that the gallant ruler of Sarawak knew 
his business better than his Exeter Hall critics. 

Mr. Lemann had for working overseer and general 
stand-between him and personal exertion a country 
Englishman named Tom Cook, who with his wife 
managed everything that his stock-rider Hugh was 
not responsible for. I took some interest in the 
family, as we had hired Thomas aforesaid from the 
emigrant vessel as ploughman, and he had been in 
our service in that capacity at Heidelberg. From 


the fair-haired, fresh-coloured English farm labourer 
that he was then, I watched his development 
through various stages of colonial experience — 
into dairyman, knock-about-man, bullock-driver, and 
finally stock-rider at Kangatong. I rather think 
he had his smock-frock when he came to us, with 
English rustic tongue and gait. When I afterwards 
saw him at Mr. Smith's muster (I had sold Mr. Gibb, 
the dealer, who was lifting the fat cattle there, an 
additional drove, just started for Melbourne, at £8 
all round, cash) he was quite the stock-rider of the 
period, with neat boots and seat to match, a sharp 
eye for calves, and, alas ! a colonially-acquired taste 
for grog, and a fight afterwards, if possible. 

However, such were only occasional recreations, 
between which he was a first-rate worker and most 
worthy fellow. He and his good wife reared a 
family of Australian-born East Saxons ; his eldest 
son — a tall fellow with a team of his own, grown a 
carrier — took away the first load of wool I ever sent 
from Squattlesea Mere, in 1862 or thereabouts. 

Among other things in which Cook showed his 
power of adaptation was the building of a stone 
cottage and dairy for Mr. Lemann. The country 
being of volcanic formation, stone to any amount 
was on hand, and he principally built the walls, 
nearly two feet in thickness, of a very snug bachelor 
establishment — a vast improvement, both in summer 
and winter, upon the ordinary slab architecture. 

After deciding not to buy Mr. Cox's heifer station, 
I happened to be staying at Grasmere, when I met, 
one evening, two strange gentlemen, a mile or two 
from the place, coming along rather travel-worn as 


to their steeds. These were my worthy friends 
James Dawson, now of Camperdown, and his friend 
and partner Mr. Selby. They, like Mr. Lemann, 
had been trying to make cattle pay on the Upper 
Yarra ranges — had, like him, concluded to start for 
the west country, then reported to be the best grass 
going, and not all taken up. They speedily heard 
of Mr. Cox having a station for sale, and he soon 
after returning from Tasmania, Mr. Dawson closed 
with him for the £30 or thereabouts. Messrs. 
Dawson and Selby shortly afterwards brought up 
their cattle, and, with their belongings, occupied the 
run. I always suspected Mr. Dawson, who was 
philologically inclined, to have extracted the name 
Kangatong from the aborigines subsequently, and 
christened the run after his arrival. It was among 
the things not generally known before his advent. 
Gradually and judiciously, as time passed on, Kanga- 
tong was improved, and so successfully managed that 
it took rank as one of the best paying stations in the 
district. Mr. Dawson and his family showed excep- 
tional kindness towards the blacks who lived near 
them. Kangatong was just outside of the " tauri," 
or hereditary district of " the Children of the Rocks," 
or matters might not have continued so pacific, my 
old friend being of a temper singularly intolerant 
of injustice. But his tribelet had long mingled with 
the whalers of the Port, from which they were 
distant less than twenty miles. I doubt Port Fairy 
Campbell and his merry men had " civilised " them 
previously — z'.e. shot a few of the more troublesome 
individuals. However, Mr. Dawson succeeded in 
making a valuable collection of data, from which 


he was enabled to publish his late work upon the 
manners, language, and religious customs of certain 
Australian aboriginals, which has received favourable 
mention from the Saturday and other leading 



It was in a year " before the gold " that I 
had occasion to ride to Kalangadoo, across the 
Adelaide border near Mount Gambier. Kalangadoo 
was a cattle station, then the property of the 
Messrs. Hunter, Alick, Jemmy, and Frank, who 
then dwelt there, and led the half-laborious, half- 
romantic life which to the cattle-station holder of 
the day was allotted. The " Mount Gambier mob," 
as in colonial parlance described, was at that time 
composed of men the majority of whom had 
attained to social distinction. Not far off, at 
Compton, lived Evelyn Sturt, to my eyes the 
veritable fine fleur of the squatter type. In that 
year, let us say about 1850, he was a very grand- 
looking fellow — aristocratic, athletic, adventurous ; 
an explorer, a pioneer, a prenx chevalier in every 
sense of the word, a leading colonist, with a strong 
dash of Bayard about him ; popular with the men 
of his set, and, it is unnecessary to say, a general 
favourite with the women. 

He had the features, the bold autocratic regard 

chap, xvii LE CHEVALIER BAYARD 171 

with which the early romance-writers were wont to 
depict the Norman Baron, whose part I make no 
doubt he would have acted creditably had Fate 
but arranged his existence synchronically. 

The prejudices of the day being against a younger 
son's procuring a competence after the simple and 
masterful plan of his ancestors, he was constrained 
to betake himself with his brethren and kinsfolk to 
far countries and unknown seas. And right manfully 
had he, and they, of whom more than one name 
shines brightly on the pages of modern history, 
dared the perils of sea and shore, of waste and 

He had been an explorer, was now a pioneer 
squatter drawing nearer and yet nearer to the 
goal of fortune. He had been rich, he had been 
poor, had driven his own bullocks, and been 
hardly pressed at times. But whatever the occupa- 
tion or garb in which he elected to masquerade 
temporarily, no one ever looked upon Evelyn Sturt 
without its being strongly borne in upon his mind 
that he saw a gentleman of high degree. 

I admired him with a boy's natural feeling of hero- 
worship. All that I saw and heard of him height- 
ened the idea. Not less stalwart than refined, 

But in close fight a champion grim, 
In camps a leader sage. 

The hero besides of numerous local legends. He had 
leaped from a bridge into a flooded river and rescued 
a drowning man. He had offered to suck the poison 
from the wound of a snake-bitten stock-rider. He 
had quelled the boldest bushman in a shearing row. 


He was chief magistrate, universal referee, good at 
all arms, gallant and gay. The modern exemplar 
of the good knight and true. 

Willie Mitchell was a different type — a more 
recent importation — tall, slight, delicate in frame 
and constitution — cultured and artistic ; he was the 
nearest approach to the languid swell that in 
that robust and natural-mannered epoch we had en- 
countered. He had been enticed to Australia by 
one of the Hunters, who, it appeared to us bush- 
abiding colonists, were always going " home." They 
had very properly pointed out to him that he could 
obtain a high interest for his money by investing it 
in stock, living like a gentleman the while — a point 
upon which he was decided. He had recently 
purchased a small but rich cattle run in the Mount 
Gambier district, where the water was subterranean, 
and the cattle had to be supplied by troughs. 

He afterwards sold this and purchased Langa- 
willi from Wright and Montgomery, who never did 
a bit of good after they sold it, the most perfect 
place and homestead in the West. But this by the 

Why Langa-willi will always be a point of interest 
in my memory, apart from other reasons, was that 
Henry Kingsley lived there the chief part of a year 
as a guest of Mitchell's. It was at Langa-willi 
that Geoffrey Hamlyn, that immortal work, the best 
Australian novel, and for long the only one, was 
written. In the well-appointed sitting-room of that 
most comfortable cottage one can imagine the gifted 
but somewhat ill-fated author sitting down comfort- 
ably after breakfast to his " copy," when his host 


had ridden forth with the overseer to make believe 
to inspect the flocks, but in reality to get an appetite 
for lunch. 

I like to think of them spending the even- 
ing sociably in their own way, both rather silent 
men — Kingsley writing till he had covered the 
regulation number of sheets — or finished the chapter, 
perhaps, where the bushrangers came to Garoopna ; 
Mitchell, reading steadily, or writing up his home 
correspondence ; the old housekeeper coming in with 
the glasses at ten o'clock, then a tumbler of toddy, a 
smoke in the verandah, or over the fire if in winter, 
and so to bed. Peaceful, unexciting days and nights, 
good for Mitchell, who was not over-strong, and for 
his talented guest. I suspect that in England, where 
both abode in later years, they often looked back 
with regret to the peerless climate, the calm days, 
the restful evenings, spent so far beyond the southern 
main at Langa - willi. The surroundings were 
judiciously utilised by the author as furnishing 
that flavour of verisimilitude which added so much 
to the charm of his fiction. Baroona, where the 
Buckleys lived, is the name of a property not far 
from Mount Hesse, and Widderin, the name of Sam 
Buckley's famous horse, is also that of a hill visible 
from the plains of Skipton. 

Mr. Mitchell, I may mention, was one of those 
investors who apparently have only to buy a place to 
make money out of it. He did so at the Mount 
Gambler station, knowing no more of cattle and 
their ways, when he bought it, than of the habits of 
the alpaca. He then bought Langa-willi, with 
20,000 sheep or so, having the same pleasing 


ignorance of their tastes and management ; held 
it till after the gold ; never did any work himself; 
spent a fair portion of his time at the Melbourne 
Club. Finally sold out at a handsome profit with 
a large stock of sheep, and departed to England, 
never to return. 

This looks like luck. Doubtless there was an 
infusion of that most agreeable ingredient. But I 
have no doubt either that the mild and elegant 
William possessed a reasonable share of prudence, 
about which, like his other endowments and accom- 
plishments, he said nothing. His first introduction 
to our Port Fairy community was at race time, 
when he appeared with the Hunters and Sturt, 
riding a beautiful little blood mare called Medora, 
a safe and easy mount, his long legs curiously near 
the ground. There couldn't be, however, a nicer 
fellow, and Australia will ever owe him a debt of 
gratitude for extending the hand of generous and 
delicate hospitality to the artist who first worthily 
illustrated her free forest life, her adventurous sons 
and daughters fair. 

Charles Mackinnon, erst of Skye — old Charles 
as he may possibly now be called, alas ! and may 
not the insidious adjective be applied to others of his 
contemporaries ? — dwelt hard by with Mr. Watson, 
his partner. He yet lives in my memory as the 
kindest of men. " Kind as a woman " exactly 
describes his disposition as exemplified in my case. 
There were no women, by the way, thereabouts in 
those days, except black ones, who used to fetch in 
the horses on foot, carry water, and otherwise make 
themselves useful. 


While at Kalangadoo I was suddenly knocked 
over by a feverish attack — an exceptional case with 
me — then, as now, tolerably tough ; but an hour 
or two of that kind of thing takes the conceit out 
of the best of us. Shivering and burning by turns, 
with throbbing headache and nausea, I had to lie 
down to it, and was very bad all one night. 
Charles Mackinnon watched over me in the most 
patient manner the while. We were new acquaint- 
ances, too. I remember distinctly his appearance 
next morning with a bowl of beef-tea, with which 
I broke a twenty-four hours' fast. 

Finding that I anxiously desired to become 
possessed of a black boy, he procured me a small 
imp, so young and callow that he fell off the quiet 
old horse (which Mackinnon also lent me for him to 
ride home on), and, sprawling in the midst of the 
dust, cried piteously. Poor Charlie Gambier ! as I 
named him — he had the honour of being christened 
by his lordship the late Bishop Perry of Melbourne. 
He was also taught, with great pains and persever- 
ance, his catechism. He could read his Bible well. 
He turned out much the sort of Christian that might 
have been expected, deteriorating rapidly after 
the age of fifteen, and learning to drink spirits 
and copy the undesirable white man with painful 

John Meredith, a scion of a well-known Tasmanian 
family, was another resident within hail of the Mount. 
A stalwart Australian in good sooth, 6 feet 4 inches, 
or thereabouts, in his stocking-soles ; blue-eyed, fair- 
bearded, and about twice as tall as any old-style 
Cambrian, I should say, in the somewhat " rangey " 


country whence his ancestors came. I had made 
his acquaintance by riding from Melbourne with 
him a year or so before. Having just come over 
from Tasmania with a faithful retainer and four 
horses, thence imported, he was journeying to a run 
which he had bought. 

He rode an immense black horse, which carried 
him " like a pony," fifteen stone and over as his 
weight probably then was ! I well remember specu- 
lating as to how such a horse might be bred — a grand 
forehand, clean fiat legs, active, powerful, blood-like, 
a great jumper, and a good carriage horse. 

Let any one try to pick up an animal of this 
type, no matter what price he is prepared to give. 
He will then realise the correctness of my conviction 
then, wholly unaltered by after -experience, of his 
rarity and value. 

The faithful retainer, whose name was William 
Godbold, was a grim-looking " old hand," who had, 
however, risked his life in a memorable flood in order 
to save a comrade. 

Years after the faithful retainer came to work on 
my station, and being looked upon as " such a good 
man," was permitted to purchase a colt on credit. 
He availed himself of the credit (and the colt) by 
riding him across the border to Mount Gambier. 
There was no extradition treaty in those days. A 
fawn bay, with a black stripe down his back, a 
shoulder cross and mule markings (see Darwin), four 
years old, fast and sound — I never was paid for that 
colt, and " still the memory rankles," trifling as is the 
deficit ! Many debts have I forgiven. Some, alas ! 
have had to be forgiven to me. But that colt — 


" Chilleno " by name, own brother to my best hack 
" The Gaucha " — I can't forgive that one. 

On my way out and back — it was some four or 
five days' ride — I stayed at various stations. It was 
de regie in those days, and I don't know a pleasanter 
ending to a day's ride than meeting a hospitable 
squatter in his own house. You have had just work 
enough to tire you reasonably, to make you enjoy a 
cheerful meal, some fresh unstudied talk (people are 
twice as confidential in the bush, even with strangers, 
as they are in town), a smoke in the verandah, and 
the sound, peaceful sleep that follows all. Then the 
awakening in the lovely fresh bush air, winter or 
summer, the feeling is ennobling, invigorating. As 
he fills his lungs and expands his breast therewith 
the wayfarer feels a better and wiser man. Old 
Mr. Robertson, a Scottish settler, had a lovely 
station on the Wannon. To his homestead travellers 
chiefly gravitated for reasons which he summarised 
somewhat plainly on one occasion. 

" Don't think I believe you come to see old 
Robertson," he said. " In the summer it's the fruit 
that fetches you, and in the winter Mary's jam." 
Now, Miss Robertson's preserves and conserves were 
the admiration of the whole district, while the orchard 
in the season was a marvel for fruit of every kind 
and sort. 

I wish I could show those good people and certain 
conceited gardeners who persist in pruning and cutting 
every lower limb of their fruit trees, the orchard at 
Wando Vale, as in those days. Great umbrageous 
apple trees with long lateral branches trailing on the 
ground, covered with fruit of the finest size and quality. 



The remarkable thing about these apple trees was 
that they had never been grafted or pruned. They 
all came from the seed of a barrel of decayed apples, 
and which, being of many different varieties, were, as 
the old gentleman expressed it, " each better than 
the other." That such is not the general result I am 
aware, being a bit of a gardener myself, but it was 
the fact in this instance, as I saw and tasted the fruit, 
and have the word of the owner for it besides, who 
planted the trees with his own hands. 

Mr. Alfred Arden I remember visiting at Hilgay, 
as also the late John Coldham of Grassdale. What 
a lovely bit of country his was ! And is not all the 
Wannon the " pick of creation " — Colac, perhaps, 
excepted ? Low deep-swarded hills, rolling downs, 
and thickly-timbered slopes, all wheat land, and forty 
bushels to the acre at that. Too good for this wicked 
world almost ! The men who took it up first had 
hardly sufficient inducement to exert themselves. 
There is such a thing as being too well off. I 
am aware it is not good for me, above all men, 
but I should like to have a try at bearing it 
again, and risk 

His dangerous wealth 
With all the woes it brings. 



WHEN we came to Melbourne in 1840 we might 
have bought all the land between Prince's Bridge and 
Upper Toorak for the merest trifle above " upset 
price." As to Sandridge, St. Kilda, and Brighton, 
they might almost have been " taken up," so low was 
the estimate of their value by the colonists of the 
period. Mr. Dendy did pre-empt 5000 acres hard 
by the city, at Brighton, under the special survey 
regulations which then obtained, at ^1 per acre. We 
certainly secured a trifle of seventy acres, upon which 
the viceregal residence of Toorak was afterwards 
erected. But some frivolous objection to the agri- 
cultural properties of the soil weighed with the head 
of the family, who, after a few unimportant purchases 
of town allotments — such as two acres in Flinders 
Street running back to the lane so named and ad- 
joining Degraves' buildings, a half-acre near to the 
corner of Collins and Elizabeth Streets, another in 
Bourke Street, besides a dozen more in various parts 
of Melbourne — finally decided to build and per- 
manently reside at Heidelberg. 


This romantically-named suburb was seven miles 
from Melbourne, with an unmade road through black 
soil of considerable richness, and a tenacity, when 
resolved into mud, which I have, during much after- 
experience, rarely seen equalled. It might have 
appeared to some persons a matter of supererogation 
this planting one's self so many miles away from an 
infant settlement, such as Melbourne then was. A 
matter involving loss of time, too, expense in transit, 
besides exile from whatever society was then avail- 
able. But these considerations availed not against the 
charming prospect of a rural home, a country-house 
surrounded by an estate of fertile land, bordered by 
the clear-flowing Yarra, and glorified by a distant 
prospect of the Australian Alps. But chiefly 
alluring were the persuasive tongue, the sanguine 
predictions, and the enjoyable al fresco entertain- 
ments of Mr. R. H. Brown, a social celebrity of 
the day, fashionable and distinguished, generally 
known, from his reminiscent enthusiasm on the 
subject of the grand European tour, as Continental 

This sentimental speculator, most refined of 
land agents, had, either personally or as deputy for 
a firm of Sydney capitalists, purchased a block of 
land extending nearly from the Darebin Creek to 
the village, and comprising the estates of Chclsworth, 
Waverley, Hartlands, and Leighton. There was also 
a section named Maltravcrs. I am not sure, indeed, 
whether he did not christen the whole block " Mal- 
travcrs," in compliment to the Master upon whose 
melancholy, philosophical, resistless hero so many of 
the viveurs of the day fashioned themselves. 


Slight, vivacious, soigne" in dress and courteous 
of manner, a good business man (was he not 
a bank director in his leisure moments, that is, 
when he was not giving dinners and dejeuners, 
getting up picnics, improvising balls and generally 
faisant Vagreable all round ?), he managed to " place " 
Heidelberg at a considerable advance upon the 
original purchase money. 

I can see him now in the centre of a group of 
admiring friends, chiefly of the fair sex, standing 
on one of the heights which overlooked the 
meadows of the Yarra. " There, my dear madam, 
permit me to direct your gaze. Do you not observe 
the silver thread of the river winding through that 
exquisite green valley ? It reminds me so vividly 
of the gliding Neckar, and, alas ! (here a most 
telling sigh) of scenes, of friends, loved and lost. I 
can fancy that I look at my ever-remembered, ever- 
regretted Heidelberg ! Those slopes rising from the 
farther river-shore will be terraced vineyards ; and 
there, where you can faintly discern the snow 
pinnacle on yon spur of the Australian Alps, I 
can imagine the grand outline of the Hartz Moun- 
tains. It is, it shall be, Heidelberg ! Charles, open 
more champagne. We must christen this thrice- 
favoured spot, on this trebly-auspicious day, worthily, 
irrevocably ! " 

In some such fashion Heidelberg was named, 
and, what was more to the purpose, sold. It is 
undeniably strong as to scenery, superior as to soil ; 
it has water privileges ; but seeing that all this 
happened a trifle over forty years agone, it may 
strike the original investors who still hold a pro- 


portion of the ground, that they might have laid out 
their cash to greater advantage, and that they have 
waited a good while for that advance in prices 
which will recoup everything. 

Heidelberg, thus sponsored, took rank as a 
fashionable suburb, and divers personages, according 
to an inevitable natural law, were attracted thereto. 
Captain George Brunswick Smyth, formerly of her 
Majesty's 50th Regiment, purchased Chelsworth. 
Mr. David M'Arthur came next to him. Then 
Waverley and Hartlands, the Rev. John Bolden, 
Mr. Hawdon at Banyule, and later on Dr. Martin, 
beyond him again. 

Still more distant, on the Rosanna estate, dwelt no 
less a potentate than Mr. Justice Willis, the Supreme 
Court Rhadamanthus of the day, who must have 
expended considerably more than half his time in 
driving in his carriage and pair into Melbourne and 
back along the miry, almost impassable track into 
which the winter rains invariably converted the road. 

This not undistinguished legal celebrity we had 
known in Sydney, and he presented himself to my 
youthful intelligence as a good-natured, mild-man- 
nered old gentleman, with whom I used to go quail 
and duck shooting in the meadows bordering the 
Yarra on Mr. Hawdon's and neighbouring estates. 
On these occasions the late Mr. Archibald Thorn, 
who rented part of Banyule from Mr. Hawdon, 
often accompanied us. And a very deadly shot he 

The Judge shot fairly well, and after a decent 
morning's sport was genial and gracious in a marked 
degree. But when he doffed the russet tweeds and 


donned the ermine, he became utterly transformed. 
It was averred, too, altogether for the worse. His 
impatience of contradiction, his acerbity of manner, 
and his infirmity of temper, were painful to witness, 
and dangerous to encounter. They landed him in 
contentions with all sorts and conditions of men, and 
ultimately led to his suspension by the Governor- 
General, a rare and exceptional proceeding. 

I quote here verbatim from my journal, of date 
Wednesday, 3rd August 1841 : — 

Nothing particular happened on the farm to-day, but the 
whole of Melbourne was in a commotion about His Honour 
Judge Willis. It appears that His Honour having said that 
he would commit anybody who offered to serve the order upon 
him to go to Sydney, signed by the three judges there resident, 
as being illegal, was met by Messrs. Carrington and Ebden, 
who tendered the order to him, and, upon his refusing to take 
it, actually threw it at him, upon which he immediately com- 
mitted them to gaol. There was a great crowd, many of 
whom supported the Judge, but others the prisoners. Some 
gentlemen, however, were present and saw the insult offered. 

On the following day's page I find further 

allusion to this " high-toned " episode in Melbourne's 

early life. 

Thursday, 4th August 1841. 

The gentlemen who insulted the Judge yesterday were 
brought up before the Magistrates in order that they 
might be committed to take their trial. However, strange to 
say, in spite of the evidence of four or five respectable 
persons who swore to the outrage, the worthy gentlemen were 
acquitted. There were, however, upon the Bench several 
personal enemies of the Judge. Many persons are of opinion 
that the decision is infamous. 

It will be seen that we then distinctly sided with 
His Irascibility, and would doubtless have been a 


vigorous partisan against the " personal enemies " 
had we written for the press of the period. How- 
ever, in spite of our sympathies, and those of other 
well-meaning friends, His Honour Mr. Justice Willis 
was compelled to go to Sydney, thence to England. 
It was understood that he there gained a technical 
victory, but had a hint to resign. 

Mr. Thomas Wills owned " Lucerne," close by 
Alphington, the village on the Darebin Creek since 
called into being and so named. He had a 
fancy for the great fodder plant, and was the first 
proprietor in the neighbourhood to lay down any 
considerable breadth of land with it. From it, or as 
a souvenir of the world-renowned lake, the estate was 

I don't know that the Heidelberg proprietors 
could be called a fortunate community. Some- 
thing of the nature of disaster happened to all 
of them. Possibly in the course of three or four 
decades an average of misfortune occurs in most 
families. But our district was exceptional. The 
wreck of the London brought mourning and life- 
long grief into one family. Cheery, kindly Joe 
Hawdon, the pioneer, the explorer, the jolly squire 
of Banyule, died when scarce over middle age. The 
Bolden family lost two sons who had arrived at 
man's estate — one killed by a fall from his horse ; 
one, a young officer rising in the service, by a tiger 
in India. Our house, endeared by many memories, 
was burned by an incendiary, still undiscovered. A 
tree fell on our good friend and neighbour, Mr, 
M'Arthur, and very nearly crushed the life out of 
him. Captain Smyth died young, and Lucerne has 


long been untenanted by any representative of the 
Wills family. 

Some of these fine days, they tell me, there will 
be a railway to Heidelberg. Then the slopes will 
be cut up into building sites, the river meadows 
irrigated, or turned into market gardens and 
creameries. The Australian Alps will be more 
visible to the naked eye than ever. Some squatter 
from Riverina or Queensland, who has just disposed 
of his stations for half-a-million to a syndicate, will 
build an imitation of the historic Castle, with the 
Great Tun, to be filled with White Yering. Dances 
of vignerons or happy peasants will be frequent ; and 
Mr. R. H. Brown, if still in the flesh, may see his 
prophetic vision so nearly fulfilled that it will hardly 
be worth his while to return to a continental Elysium. 
But, sentiment apart, there was a flavour of real 
country life about the district, protected as it was 
from intrusion on the east and north-east by the deep 
unforded river, in which more than one death took 
place from drowning. Heidelberg, apparently, always 
had attractions for men whose sympathies lay in the 
direction of stud farms and the improvement of stock. 
Chelsworth then, as later on, was the home of pedi- 
gree shorthorns, Captain Brunswick Smyth having 
imported cows of very blue blood, which passed into 
Mr. Bolden's possession, and were incorporated with 
the Grasmere herd. Mahomet, Young Mussulman, 
Lady Vane and her daughter were located at 
Leighton ; whilst " Snoozer " by " Muley Moloch," 
and other sires of high lineage, abode hard by. 
Yes ; in some respects the devoted admirer of Bulwer 
Lytton had not over-coloured the landscape. Heidel- 


berg was undeniably picturesque, and had climatic 
advantages. It was cooler than the sand-dunes of 
Brighton and St. Kilda, than the low hills of Toorak, 
than the river meadow upon which Melbourne proper 
then chiefly stood. Waves of mountain air were 
wafted from the Alps, on which, though many miles 
distant, the snow was clearly visible. Those of 
us who, in after years, were members of the old 
Melbourne Club in Lower Collins Street, often 
preferred a longish night ride for the immunity 
from mosquitoes which Heidelberg then afforded. 

The river meadows by the Yarra were composed 
of a deep, black, fertile loam, eminently suited for 
orchards, cereals, and root crops. Taking into con- 
sideration the quality of the soil, the proximity of 
the river, the variety of the landscape, no suburb 
would have equalled Heidelberg in attractiveness 
had it not been handicapped by distance from the 
metropolis. Rail, road traffic, and settlement — all 
appeared to have gone north, south, west ; anywhere 
but towards Heidelberg. 

Now that every foot of building land near 
Melbourne has been bought and built upon — has 
become " terraced slopes," in the evil sense of modern 
overcrowding, perhaps the beneficent Heidelberg and 
Alphington Railway will open up the untouched 
glades which still silently overlook the murmuring 
river, still lie hushed to sleep in the shadow of the 
great Australian mountain chain. 



Oh ! the merry days, 

The merry days, when we were young ! 

SANG the ladye fay-re. I can hear the clear rich 
tones even now. Ah me ! what days were those ! 
Why will they not come back ? We are scarcely of 
such hoar antiquity that we may not enjoy the 
present reasonably, when " gracieuses " dames and 
demoiselles look brightly on us with those haunting 
eyes of theirs. But, oh ! the awakening at dawn, 
that is when we find the difference. How glorious 
was it to regain consciousness from out a realm of 
poet dreams, with the certainty of a day of stirring 
world -strife before us. At the reveille of that en- 
chanted time, how gaily the knight donned harness 
and mounted steed, serenely conscious of his ability 
to perform his devoir " right manful under shield," 
confident of winning his guerdon, even, perchance, a 
smile from the Queen of Beauty herself. 

Now, alas, the sky seems lowering and sad- 
coloured, the lines of the foe ever serried and close 


ranked, the blows come shrewder and more difficult 
of parry. More than once has the knight been, by- 
trusty squire or faithful friend, 

Dragged from amid the horses' feet, 
With dinted shield and helmet beat. 

We were ever and anon minded to answer in the 
affirmative to the " rendez vous ! " of Fate so persist- 
ently repeated. Yet will we forward still, parrying 
lance-thrust here, fending sword-play there. Many 
a trusty comrade is down ; we miss the cheery tones 
of a voice that sounded never far from our right arm, 
in feast or in foray. Yet still en avant seems more 
natural than halt or retreat. 

Ye gods ! what a spring morning was that on 
which we hurled ourselves out of bed at Woodlands, 
with the full, absorbing, wildly-exciting knowledge, 
even in that first moment of consciousness, that The 
Steeplechase was to be run that day — an Olympic 
game in which we were to share. A truly classic 
conflict in which the competitors were mostly men 
of mark, where the spectators were friends, relatives, 
and sympathisers, and where divine personages in 
the shape of various ladies of the period, lovely and 
beloved, were to gaze upon our prowess, thrill at 
our daring, and " weep when a warrior nobly falls." 

We had a warrior, Colonel Acland Anderson — 
poor fellow ; we had four squatters, Molesworth and 
Rawdon Greene, Edmund M'Neill, and " the duffer 
who writes this " reminiscence. Last, not least, 
we had a Chief-Justice in posse. He wasn't Sir 
William in those days, only a hard -riding, hard- 
working, manifestly rising barrister, perhaps not inaptly 


described by a maid-servant from the Emerald Isle, 
at a house where he had called, and who, in the 
fluster of the interview, had forgotten his name, as 
" a mighty plisant young man with foxy whiskers." 

We were a goodly company, all staying at Wood- 
lands for a week or two — have people leisure and 
inclination to do this sort of thing now ? — and this 
steeplechase had been improvised to take place on 
the plain before Woodlands House, as an acceptable 
variation of the ordinary programme, which comprised 
other entertainments besides the orthodox dance 
which ended the day. Was there not also another 
legal celebrity not as yet graced with the accolade ? 
Cheery, cultured, courteous Redmond Barry — did 
he not write a charade duly enacted by us youths 
and maidens, besides coaching us in " The Chough 
and Crow " and divers glees and part-songs ? 

In that Arcadian period what a nice place 
Woodlands was ! Somehow one could afford to 
take life more easily in those days. The sons of 
the house were sometimes up the country at their 
stations, especially at shearing time, but managed to 
be a good deal at the old home. And when they 
were there the chatelaine wisely took heed to make 
home a pleasant place ; to that end inviting friends 
and well-wishers, among whom I had the privilege 
to be inscribed. Great were the doings done, and 
very pleasant the days we spent there. 

Thus Woodlands stands before me, looking back 
over those half- forgotten days, as " the country-house " 
par excellence of the period. 

Neither a farm nor yet a large estate, it was 
something between the two, while the household and 


the menage generally were more in accordance with 
the habitudes of English country-house life than 
often obtains in Australia. 

Mr. Pomeroy Greene, resolving to make Victoria 
his future home, had emigrated after a comprehensive 
fashion — not now so common. He brought with 
him, in addition to his large family, a house, with 
men-servants and maid-servants, horses and carriages, 
farm tools and implements, nearly everything which 
he could have needed had he proceeded to free-select 
an uninhabited island. Was there not "Rory O'More," 
a son of " Irish Birdcatcher " ; " Nora Creina," dam 
by " Drone " ; the graceful " Taglioni," and the hunter 
" Pickwick," a big, powerful, Galvvay-looking nag, up to 
any weight over any height, and not too refined to draw 
a cart or do a day's harrowing on a pinch? An exceed- 
ingly useful stamp of horse in a new country, most 
of us will admit, and quite worth his passage money. 

Also, in this connection, came Tom Brannigan, an 
active, resolute, humorous young Irishman, with a 
decided family likeness to one Mickey Free about 
him. He was stud groom, and a model retainer 
during the first years of the settlement of Woodlands. 
Let me not forget Smith, the butler, a decorous, 
solemn personage of staid demeanour and faultless 
accuracy of get-up, an occasional twinkle of the 
eye only at times betraying that he belonged to 
the Milesian and not the Saxon branch of his widely- 
dispersed family and vocation. 

Just thirteen miles from Melbourne, Woodlands 
was a pleasant morning or afternoon's ride — an easy 
drive. You left Melbourne by the Flemington 
road, traversed the Moonee Ponds, finally debouch- 


ing upon the plain, whence you saw the house, built 
bungalow fashion upon a wooded slope, with flanking 
wings and a courtyard, verandah-encircled likewise, 
facing eastward towards Sunbury, and on the west 
having an extensive outlook over plain and forest, 
with the sea in the distance. The landscape was 
extensive, " wide and wild, and open to the air," but 
sufficiently wooded to prevent the expression of bleak- 
ness. These thoughts possibly do not occur to me 
as I dress provisionally in shooting coat, slippers, etc., 
and rush out to the stables to look at the gallant 
steed that is to carry Caesar and his fortunes, a 
game-looking Arab grey, fast and a good fencer, the 
property of one John Fitzgerald Leslie Foster — a 
guest at the time, and lent to me for the occasion. 
Only been a few days off grass, though otherwise in 
good buckle. The certainty of his being short of con- 
dition does not weigh with me, however, so anxious 
am I to have a throw in and sport my tops and cords. 
Tom Brannigan thinks " he has a great spring in him 
entirely," and encourages me to hope that a lucky 
chance may land me a winner. He relates an anecdote 
of his brother Jim, a well-known steeplechase jock, 
in a race where the fences were terrific. One of 
the country people was heard to say, " Sure the most 
of them would break their necks, but Jim Brannigan 
and the ould mare would have a leg to spare, some- 
how or somehow." Much comforted by this apposite 
reference, I shut the door, and inspect the rest of the 
stable. It is not a very small one. 

Having a look for the hundredth time at " Rory 
O'More" — a beautiful brown horse, showing great 
quality, with a strong likeness to " The Premier " in 


more than one of his points, and glancing at a couple 
of yearlings — I betake myself to an inspection of 
the battle-steeds of the day. 

They are a goodish lot, and in that state and 
condition of fife which impress on me the idea 
that, unless under the favouring accident of a general 
boaleversement, my chance of winning is slender 
indeed. First of all stands an elegant blood-looking 
grey, the property of the heir -apparent, sheeted, 
hooded, and done up in great style. He is as " fit 
as a fiddle," and will have on his back an exceed- 
ingly cool and determined rider — who, like Mr. 
Stripes, " will not throw a chance away." 

Next to him is a powerful, hunter -looking bay, 
an animal which would fetch about four hundred 
guineas in England. Let me describe him — remem- 
bering as I do every hair in his skin. I had ridden 
him more than once, and the reader, if he has been 
home lately, will note if I have overrated his price. 
A three-quarter or four-fifths bred horse, bay with 
black points, save one white hind leg. A light, well- 
shaped head, a good neck, and shoulders so oblique 
that it took the length of the snaffle bridle to pay 
out for rein ; flat and clean bone under the knee, 
deep across the heart, powerful quarter, with 
muscular thighs and well -bent hocks. He would 
have been quite in the English fashion of the 
present day, as he had a shortish pulled tail. 
Height about fifteen hands three inches, on short 

This was "Thur'mpogue," the property of Edmund 
M'Neill, of the firm of Hall and M'Neill, near Daisy 
Hill. The portrait is that of a weight-carrier, 


doubtless. And so he needed to be, the aforesaid 
Edmund being of the unusual height of six and 
a half feet. Though not particularly broad, it will 
be seen that he could not be a very light man. In 
another box stands a long, low, blood-like chestnut 
horse. He winces and lays back his ears after a 
fashion which indicates temper, as the boy pulls the 
sheet off at my instigation. The test is a true one. 
What little he has is proverbially bad, and he has 
deposited so many riders in unexpected localities by 
" mount, and stream, and sea," that a less resolute 
horseman than the Chief would have fought shy of 
him as an investment. He is in great form, how- 
ever, and as hard as nails, his close bright golden 
coat shining like shot satin. I involuntarily give 
vent to an exclamation, which denotes that my own 
and other people's chances have receded since inter- 
viewing " The Master of the Rolls," for such is the 
legal luminary I now behold. 

Back to bedroom and bath ; for by this time 
dressing has set in seriously all over the house, and 
the bachelors' apartments, in a separate wing, resound 
with the careless talk and frequent laughter which are 
sure to emanate from a number of friends in the 
golden prime. All sorts of opinions are volunteered 
about the merits of each other's horses, sarcastic 
hints as to horsemanship and condition, laughing 
retorts and confident anticipations, are to be heard 
on every side, welling out from the bed-chambers and 
along the corridors, into which, with the exuberance 
of youth, the inmates, in various stages of apparelling, 
likewise overflow. 

We all met at breakfast, of course. Talk about 



suppers ! There may be, doubtless, a fair share of 
enjoyable " causerie," or even serious love-making, at 
supper, " when wit and wine sparkle instead of the 
sun " ; but for real, honest, hearty enjoyment, when 
all is sanguine anticipation of excitement or success, 
with good weather, good spirits, and good com- 
pany, commend me to a country-house at break- 
fast time, where the sexes are judiciously mingled, 
and a hunt, a steeplechase, or a picnic is on the 
cards. There may be a few things better in this 
life of ours. If so, I have seldom come across 

Of course it was then and there arranged who 
were to drive whom — what traps, carriages, hacks, 
and so on were to be requisitioned. The organisa- 
tion even went so far — if my memory serves me — as 
that every knight should be presented with the 
colours of some ladyc fayrc — after humble petition 
on bended knee — by my halidome ! — which he 
doubtless swore to carry to the front, or nobly 

I don't retain a clear account of the preliminaries 
on the morning of the "Grand National"; but I think 
we must have made as much fuss and given as much 
trouble. When, about mid-day, we turned out on the 
plain below Woodlands House, where the carriages 
were drawn up and the spectators assembled in 
expectation of our appearance, the excitement had 
passed from the stage of tireless energy to that of 
fervent concentration. Each man wore an aspect of 
settled, unflinching resolution, such as might have 
befitted, in an after-time, 


Those who ran the tilt that day 
With Death, and bore their lives away 
From the Balaclava Charge ! 

Out we came at last, a fairish field to look at, 
men and horses, though I say it. I should premise 
that the leaps were composed of two-railed fences, 
brushed underneath, about fifteen in all, from four 
feet to four feet six in height, and sufficiently stiff, 
as the event proved. 

On the upper or eastern side of the course, where 
shade was procurable, were entrenched the carriages 
and non-combatants, among whom Mr. Redmond 
Barry, Mr. Leslie Foster, William Anderson, " Count " 
Ogilby, and other disengaged cavaliers, who did their 
devoir in entertaining the ladies and judiciously 
criticising the field. Jimmy Ellis, friend and pastoral 
partner of one William Stawell, a brisk, black-bearded, 
hard-riding little Milesian, was starter and clerk of the 
course. Here we came up for the last time, more or 
less soberly or skittishly, to the post, with cords and 
tops, silk jackets and caps, " accoutred proper," full 
jockey costume being de rigueur. A correct card of 
the race would probably have read as follows. The 
colours of the riders may have partially faded out of 
memory's ken, inasmuch as " it was many and many 
a year ago." 

1. Mr. Molesworth Greene's grey horse " Trifle," four years, 

pink and white — ridden by owner. 

2. Mr. Stawell's "Master of the Rolls," aged chestnut, 

scarlet and black — owner. 

3. Mr. E. M'Neill's bay horse " Thur'mpogue," blue and 

silver — owner. 

4. Mr. Acland Anderson's bay horse " Spider," ridden by 

Mr. Rawdon Greene — crimson and gold. 


5. Mr. William Anderson's chestnut horse " Murgah," 

ridden by Mr. Acland Anderson — maroon jacket, black 

6. Mr. Leslie Foster's grey horse " Achmet," ridden by 

Mr. Rolf Boldrewood — white and magenta. 

We are marshalled in line by Jimmy Ellis, and 
a good start not being so vitally important as in a 
flat race, we get comfortably away. 

Pretty close together we charge the first fence, 
which is negotiated with " ease to the riders and satis- 
faction to the lookers-on." The turf is green and 
firm, and the distance to the next fence rather greater, 
so we make the pace better, and, as we near it, blood 
begins to tell. 

The brothers Greene are first over, followed by 
"Thur'mpogue," the rider of the "Master of the Rolls" 
lying off, and evidently doing a little generalship. In 
the second division come my grey and William 
Anderson's chestnut. Both clear the fence well, and 
pull double, as we try to keep what wind they have, 
available for the finish. 

So we fare on ; each fence shows that the race 
will mainly lie between Molesworth Greene's grey 
and the chestnut of Mr. Stawell, the latter taking all 
his fences in stride, and looking as resolute as at 
the first. Rawdon Greene, Acland Anderson, and 
M'Neill are riding jealously for second place. 

The pace is now as good as we can make it. 
We are all at the second fence from home. The 
grey and the chestnut, almost neck and neck, are 
taking their leaps together, " Trifle " with a slight lead. 
Wc arc all going our best. It has come to the do- 
or-die stage, and every man sets his teeth and rides 


for his life. We are in full view of the grand stand 
too. I have been taking a pull at my grey, and 
manage, by a rush, to send him up into respectable 
prominence, when Rawdon Greene's horse hits a 
top-rail a terrible clout, which flies up and disturbs 
" Thur'mpogue's " sensitive nerves as he measures his 
distance for the leap. Half looking back, half jump- 
ing, he strikes the rail close to the post. It bends, 
but does not break. The big horse balances for a 
moment, and then falls, rolling heavily over his rider. 
" Thur'mpogue " rises in a moment, and makes a bee- 
line — head up and rein flying — for the nearest road 
to Daisy Hill — a practice "quite frequent" with him 
whenever he happens to get loose. His rider does 
not rise, or indeed move for a few minutes. He has 
broken a rib, and, like Mr. Tupman, had all the 
temporary supply of breath knocked out of his body. 
The rest of the field finish creditably close, Moles- 
worth Greene's grey being beaten on the post by the 
" Master of the Rolls." 

We did not wait there long, every one being 
anxious about the precise amount of damage sustained 
by " Emun Mhor," or Long Edmund, as we heard he 
was called by the tenantry of the estate after his 
return to Ireland. Knowing that if he did not die 
on the field, he would naturally be anxious for the 
safety of such a horse as " Thur'mpogue," and an ex- 
tremely swell Wilkinson and Kidd saddle, I started 
off on the track, and was lucky enough to run him 
down just as he was preparing to cross the Deep 
Creek. As I led him back I encountered Jimmy 
Ellis, also running the trail like a black tracker, with 
his head so low to the ground that he did not see me 


till I was close on top of him. When we returned 
to the scene of our contest the wounded warrior was 
being conveyed to the house in Mrs. Anderson's 
barouche, doubtless receiving an amount of sympathy 
which fully compensated for the pain and incon- 
venience of his mishap. 

He was not able to join in the dance which 
delightfully finished up the day's entertainment, or, 
indeed, to leave his room ; but he was an interesting 
personage thenceforth, with his arm in a sling, and 
gained prestige and consideration during the re- 
mainder of the revels. 

The worst of these brief sketches, roughed off at 
intervals snatched from a busy life when 

Mournful memory sitteth singing 
Of the days that are no more, 

is that melancholy reflections will obtrude themselves. 
How many of one's comrades who made the joy of 
that pleasant time arc no more ! Of that same 
cheery gathering, how many lie low — how small 
a party should we now make could we meet — 
how different would be our greetings ! 

It boots not to grieve. If we don't ride steeple- 
chases, or try conclusions with the half-tamed steed, 
we still find a warm place in our hearts for a good 
hack. His Honour Sir William Stawell doesn't do 
much in the four-in-hand line nowadays, but I hear 
that he can walk up a mountain yet, and do his 
share of bush travelling in vacation. Life is but 
a battlefield at best, and we, the survivors of more 
than one decisive action, must bow to the merciful 
fate which has kept us so far unscathed, while in 


secret we make moan over those who lie beneath 
green turf or murmuring wave, desert sand or 
wild -wood tree ; whose place in our hearts, spite 
of careless speech and smiling brow, may never be 
filled up. 



When Mr. Lemuel Bolden and I rode to Yering 
from Heidelberg, about the year 1845, to P a y a 
promised visit to Mr. William Ryrie, the Upper 
Yarra road and the place of our destination pre- 
sented a different appearance. 

We forded the Yarra below Mr. D. C. M'Arthur's 
orchard, and crossing a heavily-timbered river-flat, 
with deep reed-fringed lagoons, debouched on the 
up-river road. This particular locality was well 
known to me, inasmuch as, being formerly in our 
pastoral possession, it had constituted a species of 
" chase " in my early sporting days. The only 
denizens of that period were an occasional pair of 
sawyers, generally " Derwenters," as the Tasmanian 
expirees were called, thither attracted by the unusual 
size and straightness of the timber which grew in 
the flats and " bends " of the winding Yarra. 

Owing to the sinuous shape of the lagoons on 
the south side of the river, coupled with the dense 
nature of the thickets, it was not an easy matter for 
a stranger to find his way through the maze. It 

chap, xx YE RING 20 1 

naturally came to be, therefore, the happy hunting 
ground of my boyhood ; many a grand day's sport 
and thrilling adventure did I have therein. 

The largest lagoon was fringed with a wide 
border of reeds, growing in deep water. It had in 
the centre a clear lakelet or mere, upon the lonely 
waters of which disported the mountain duck, with 
his black and other congeners, the greater and lesser 
grebe ; while among the reeds waded or flew the 
heron {Ardea australis), the sultana water-hen, a 
red-billed variety of the coot, the bittern, the land- 
rail, and in the season an occasional flock of pied 
geese or black swans. 

To approach the wild-fowl in the open mere was 
a work of difficulty, if not of danger, inasmuch as 
the water was too deep for wading, and the entangle- 
ment with weeds — which then cost more than one 
strong swimmer his life — was not out of the reckoning. 
I did once struggle to the verge of total exhaustion 
within the green meshes of one of these weed 
nets, in a lonely pool in which I had to swim for a 
black duck. The thought uppermost in my mind 
was that it would be such a time before I should be 
found, in case of — an accident which didn't come off. 
I used to circumvent my feathered friends in the 
horse-shoe lagoon by climbing a tree upon the slope 
which lay opposite. From this coign of vantage I 
could see the birds swimming in fancied security, 
and lay plans accordingly. In order to open fire 
with effect, I had caused to be conveyed a light 
canoe, which one of my sawyer friends had neatly 
scooped out for me, into the outer mere among the 
reeds. It was in waist-deep water — carefully con- 


cealed, and I could, of course, gain it unseen. 
Paddling or pulling it through the outer reed-brake, 
I ensconced myself at the edge of the clear water, 
waiting patiently until the unsuspecting birds sailed 
past. Once I remember getting two couple of black 
duck. An occasional goose, or even the lordly 
swan, found its way into my bag. 

Once, as I had planned a day's shooting, I was 
startled by seeing a flock of ducks wheeling around, 
and finally making straight for the South Pole, as if 
decided not to return for a year. Gazing angrily 
around to discern the cause of this untoward migra- 
tion, I descried a man carefully got up in correct 
shooting rig emerge from the reeds. Half-paralysed 
by the audacity of the unknown — this was years 
before the free-selection discovery — I sat still in my 
saddle for one moment. Then, as the enormity of 
the offence — trespass on our run — rose before me, 
I dashed spurs into my horse and charged the 

" What's your name, and what do you mean by 
coming here to shoot and frighten the ducks ? " I 
called out, stopping my frantic steed within a few 
feet of him. " Don't you know whose ground you're 

The unknown looked calmly at me with a rather 
amused countenance (I was about fourteen, and 
scarcely looked my age), and then said, " Who the 
devil are you ? " 

" My name's Boldrcwood," I returned, " and this 
is our run, and no one has any right to come here and 
shoot or do anything else without my father's leave." 

" Gad ! I thought it was the Lord of the Manor 

xx YER1NG 203 

at least ! You're a smart youngster, but I don't know 
that there are any game laws in this country. What 
are you going to do with me for instance ? " 

The stranger turned out to be a guest at a neigh- 
bouring station. There were cattle stations in the 
vicinity in those days. Anyhow, we compromised 
matters and finished the day together. 

Not far from the spot the late John Hunter 
Kerr, afterwards of Fernihurst, had a veritable cattle 
station. I attended one of the musters for a purpose. 
The cattle were in the yard, with various stock- 
riders and neighbours sitting around, preparatory to 
drafting, as I rode up, attended by a sable retainer 
driving a horse and cart. 

What did I please to want ? " I've come for our 
black J. B. bullock," said I. " He has been running 
with your cattle these two years, and I thought he 
would most likely come in with your muster." 

" He is here sure enough, and in fine order, but 
how are you going to take him home ? He always 
clears the yard when we begin to draft, and no stock- 
rider about here can drive him single-handed." 

" I'll take him home fast enough," returned I, 
with colonial confidence, " if he'll stay in the yard 
long enough for me to shoot him." 

" Oh, that's the idea," quoth Mr. Kerr. " Go to 
work ; only don't miss him or drop any of my 

" No fear." 

Old Harvey, an expatriated countryman of Cete- 
wayo's, handed me my single-barrelled fowling-piece, 
a generally useful weapon, which had been loaded 
with ball for the occasion. I walked cautiously 


through the staring, wildish cattle, to the middle of 
the yard, where stood the big black bullock. He 
lowered his head, and began to paw the ground. I 
made a low bovine murmur, which I had found 
effective before ; he raises his head and looks full 
at me for a second. The bullet crashes into the 
forehead "curl," and the huge savage lies prone — a 
quivering mass. Harvey promptly performs the 
necessary phlebotomy, and being dragged out of the 
yard, the black ox is skinned, quartered, and on his 
way to the beef-cask at Hartlands well within twenty 
minutes of his downfall. 

Years after, when a full-fledged Riverina squatter, 
Mr. Kerr and I met in partibus. He at length re- 
called my name and locale, remarking, " Oh yes ! 
remember now ; you were the boy that shot the 
black bullock in my yard at South Yarra long 

Well, Mr. Bolden and I ride along the winding, 
gravelly bush road, over ranges that skirt and at 
times leave the course of the river wholly, not seeing 
a house or a soul, except Mr. Gardiner's dairy farm, 
for more than twenty miles. The country, in an 
agricultural and pastoral point of view, is as bad as 
can be. Thick — i.e. scrubby, poor in soil, scanty as 
to pasture, when all suddenly, as is so often the case 
in Australia, we come upon a " mountain park." 

We cross a running creek by a bridge. We see 
a flock of sheep and a shepherd, the genuine " old 
hand " of the period. The slopes are gently rising 
towards the encircling highlands, the timber is pleas- 
ingly distributed, the soil, the pasture, has improved. 
We are in a new country. We have entered upon 

xx YERING 205 

Yering proper, a veritable oasis in this unredeemed 
stringy-bark desert. 

How Mr. William Ryrie, in the year 1837 or 
1838, brought his flocks and herds and general 
pioneer equipment straight across country from Arn- 
prior in far Monaro in New South Wales, hitting 
precisely upon this tenantless lodge in the wilderness, 
will always be a marvel. It was one of the feats 
which the earlier explorers occasionally performed, 
showing their fitness for the heroic work of colonisa- 
tion, wherein so many of them risked life and limb. 
With the great pastoral wild of Australia Felix 
lying virgin and unappropriated before him, Mr. 
Ryrie might easily have made a more profitable, a 
more expansive choice. But he could not have 
hit upon a more ideal spot for the founding of an 
estate and the formation of a homestead had he 
searched the continent. 

Amid the variously-gathered outfit which accom- 
panied the pastoral chief, as he led flocks, herds, 
and retainers through unknown wilds to the far 
promised land, happened to be some roots of the 
tree, the survival of which caused Noah so much 
uneasiness, and more or less humbled his descendants, 
before John Jameson and Co. took up the running 
with the now fashionable product of the harmless 
avena. A few grape vines reached the spot unharmed. 
Planted in the first orchard on the rich alluvial of the 
broad river-flat which fronted the cottage, they grew 
and flourished, so richly that the area devoted to the 
vine was soon enlarged. From such small beginning 
arose the vineyards of Yering and St. Hubert's. 
From those, again, Messrs. de Pury and others 


planted the wine-producing district which has now a 
European reputation. 

Little of this, however, was apparent to my com- 
panion and myself, or we might have been enter- 
taining royalty by this time — who knows ? — carrying 
ourselves like other eminent and gilded colonists, 
envied by everybody and sneered at by our less 
fortunate compatriots. We rode steadily on, through 
hill and hollow, past plump cattle, not, however, 
showing quite so much white and roan as do the 
present herds ; past a " manada " of mares and 
foals, from which ran out to challenge our steeds 
Clifton the Second, " with flying mane and arching 
crest." Finally we ride up to a neat weatherboard 
cottage, whence issues our kindly, warm-hearted 
host, breathing welcome and hospitality in every 
tone of his jolly voice. We were soon enjoying 
the change of sensation, which after a thirty-mile 
ride is of itself a luxury. With him as visitors were 
"Hobbie" Elliot, a well-known squatter of the period, 
and a stalwart younger brother just out from home. 

The cottage, as I remember it then, was built 
upon a slight elevation overlooking a richly-grassed 
meadow, below which the Yarra, not much less wide 
and rapid than near Melbourne, ran its winding 
course. On the farther side of the river, looking 
eastward, was a purple -shadowed mountain, ap- 
parently, though not in reality, overhanging the 
stream. In the dimmer distance rose the vast 
snow -crowned range of the Australian Alps. We 
walked about after our afternoon meal, admiring the 
great growth of the trees in the garden, and the 
picturesque appearance of things generally. 

xx YERING 207 

On the next day we took a long ride, and, I well 
remember, crossed the river upon a primitive bridge, 
which enables me to say to this day that I have 
ridden across a river upon a single tree. It was 
even so. An enormous eucalyptus [E. amygdalind), 
growing upon the bank of the Yarra, had been 
felled or grubbed — I think the latter — so as to fall 
across the stream. Afterwards it had been adzed 
level — a hand-rail had been supplied. A quiet horse 
could therefore be easily led or ridden across to the 
other side, the width being an average of three feet. 

We crossed that way, I know, next day, and had 
a look at the Heifer Station, as the trans-Yarra run 
was then called. It was a sort of Yering in 
miniature, not so open, and much smaller. To it, 
however, our host was compelled to retire, when 
(upon how many good fellows has the same fate 
fallen ?) he made a compulsory sale to Paul de 
Castella and his partner, another Swiss gentleman. 
Fortunately for him, pastoral property rose in value 
prodigiously " after the gold," so that he was enabled 
to sell the heifer station for five times as much 
as he got for Yering. 

However, " unconscious of our doom," we took a 
long and pleasant ride through ferny dales, and 
darksome woods where the giant eucalypti reared 
their heads to heaven. We watched the sparkling 
streamlets dash down their course from alpine 
heights, praised the cattle and horses, and returned 
with appetites of the most superior description. 
Our chief adventure was in crossing a water-laden 
flat, when Mr. Elliot, jun., raised his long legs high 
on his horse's sides to escape splashing. That 


animal, being young and " touchy," immediately ex- 
hibited a fair imitation of that well-known Australian 
gambade known as "buck-jumping." For the honour 
of Scotia, however, our friend, new chum as he was, 
stuck to the pigskin, and was justly applauded at 
the end of the performance. 

Live stock were cruelly low about that time — £1 
a head for store bullocks, and so on. Fat cattle 
were never worth more than £3 each, often consider- 
ably under that modest price. The expense of stock- 
management bore hard upon receipts, particularly 
when the proprietor had not inherited the saving 
grace of " screwiness." Our host, gallant, generous, 
warm-hearted William Ryrie, was not in that line ; 
far otherwise. As a matter of fact, Ycring was sold 
to Messrs. de Castella and Co., within a year of our 
visit, for two or three thousand pounds — some such 
trifle, at any rate. 

So Yering passed into the hands of another good 
fellow. Though " foreign," and not " to the manor 
born," he quickly demonstrated his ability to acquire 
the leading principles of stock - management. Of 
course, the gold came to his aid, causing the cattle 
he had purchased at £2 each to be worth ^8 or £10, 
and in other ways making things easy for an enter- 
prising pastoralist. Besides managing the herd 
satisfactorily, Mr. de Castella saw his way to 
developing the vineyard, enlarging it twenty or fifty 
fold, besides building cellars, wine-presses, and all 
the adjuncts of scientific vine-culture. He imported 
French or Swiss vignerons, and commenced to acquire 
that high reputation for " white and red Yering " 
Hermitage which remains unblemished to this day. 

xx YERING 209 

Years afterwards, when the tide of pastoral 
prosperity throughout the colonies was high and 
unwavering, I made another visit to the spot, under 
different circumstances and in far other company. 
A large party had been invited by Mr. and Mrs. de 
Castella to spend a week at Yering, when a picnic, 
a dance, and all sorts of al fresco entertainments 
were included in the programme. 

We were to meet at Fairlie House, South Yarra, 
and the day being propitious, the gathering was 
successful ; the cortege decidedly imposing. Charlie 
Lyon's four-in-hand drag led the way ; Lloyd Jones's 
and Rawdon Greene's mail phaetons, with carriages 
and dog-carts, following in line — it was a small Derby 
day. The greater proportion of the ladies were ac- 
commodated in the vehicles. There were horsemen, 
too, of the party. The commissariat had been sent 
on at an early hour, accompanied by a German band, 
retained for the occasion, to a convenient halting 
place for luncheon. As we rattled along the broad, 
straight roads of Kew we saw hedges of roses, orchards 
in spring blossom, miles of villas and handsome houses, 
all the signs of a prosperous suburban population. 
How different from the signs of the past ! 

Early in the afternoon we sighted the dark-browed 
Titan on the hither side of which the homestead lay. 
Mending our pace, we entered a mile-long avenue, 
cleared with a bridegroom's munificence, as a fitting 
approach for so fair a bride, on the occasion of his 

I don't think we danced that night — the fairer 
portion of the company being moderately travel- 
worn — but we made up for it on the succeeding 



ones. Each day's programme had been marked 
out, and arrangements made in regal style. Some 
of us had sent on our favourite hacks ; side-saddle 
and other horses were provided by the host in any 
quantity. Riding parties, picnics to fern gullies, to 
Mount Juliet, and other places of romantic interest, 
were successfully carried out. Races were impro- 
vised. Shooting parties, fishing excursions, kangaroo 
and opossum battues — everything which could im- 
press the idea that life was one perpetual round 
of mirth and revelry — had been provided for. 

As we sat at mid-day on the velvet green 
sward, by fern-fringed streamlets, under giant gums 
or the towering patriarchs of the mountain ash, while 
merry jest and sparkling repartee went round, 
ardent vow and rippling laughter, we might 
have been taken — apart from the costume — for 
an acted chapter out of " Boccaccio." When we 
came dashing in before sunset, the sound of our 
approach was like that of a cavalry troop, or the 
rolling hoof-thunder of marauding Apaches. The 
Germans were musicians of taste ; to the " Morgen- 
blatter " and the " Tausend-und-eine Nachte " valses 
we danced until the Southern Cross was low in the 
sky, while as we watched the moon rise, flooding 
with silver radiance the sombre Alp, and shedding a 
passing gleam on the rippling river, all might well 
have passed for an enchanted revel, where mirth, 
moon, and music would disappear at the waving 
of a wand. 

Years had rolled on since my first visit to the 
pioneer homestead. The cottage had disappeared, 
or was relegated to other purposes. In its place 

xx YE RING 211 

stood a mansion, replete with the appliances of 
modern country-house life. The vineyard covered 
acres of the slope, and the grapes were ripening upon 
thousands of trellised vines. The stables were filled 
with high - conditioned, high-priced animals, with 
grooms and helpers in proportion to their needs. 

In the meadows below the house grazed hundreds 
of high-priced shorthorns, some hundreds of which 
had been purchased from me, Rolf, a few months 
previously, so that I had the exceptional privilege 
of drawing attention to the quality of my herd. 
Steeds of price were there that day. Diane and 
Crinoline, two peerless ladies' horses ; Mr. de 
Castella's half- Arab carriage pair; Sir Andrew 
Clarke's roan Cornborough hackney, equally perfect 
in harness ; Mr. Lyon's team of chestnuts, high bred 
and well matched, not to mention the swell bright 
chestnut mare " Carnation," for which the owner had 
refused eighty guineas from an Indian buyer. 

The cool, capacious wine-cellars played their 
part on the occasion, being requisitioned for their 
choicest " cru." Soda was abundant, the weather 
warm, and the daily consumption of fluid must 
have been serious. When the " decamerone " 
expired, the guests, one and all, were ready to testify 
that never did mortals more deeply drink of Pleasure's 
chalice, never return to the prose of ordinary life 
with more sincere regret. 



THIS is a " horsey " sketch, possibly therefore un- 
acceptable to the general reader. But any chronicle 
of my early days, connected as they were with the 
birth of a great city, would be incomplete without 
mention of the noble animal so dear to every 
youthful Australian. 

Reared in an atmosphere redolent of the swift 
courser's triumphs, often compelled to entrust life 
and limb to the good horse's speed, care indeed 
requires to be taken that the southern Briton does 
not somewhat overvalue his fascinating dumb com- 
panion — overvalue him to the exclusion from his 
thoughts of art and science, literature and dogma — 
to the banishment of rational conversation, and a 
preference for unprofitable society. So thought an 
old family friend, Mr. Felton Mathew (he upon his 
blood bay "Glaucus," and I upon my Timor pony), 
as we rode towards Enmore from Sydney in old, old 
days. He testily exclaimed, " For Heaven's sake, 
Rolf, don't go on talking about horses everlastingly, 
or you'll grow up like those colonial lads that never 

chap, xxi TALES OF A " TRAVELLER" 213 

have another idea in their heads." I winced under 
the rebuke, but accepted it, as became our relative 
ages. None the less did I bear in my secret breast 
that Arab-like love for horses and their belongings 
which marks the predestined son of the Waste here 
as duly as in Yemen or the Nejd. 

How I longed for the day when I should have a 
station of my own, when I should have blood mares, 
colts and fillies, perhaps a horse in training, with 
all the gorgeous adjuncts of stud - proprietorship ! 
The time came — the horses too — many a deeply 
joyous hour, many a thrill of hope and fear, many a 
wild ride and daring deed was mine 

Ere nerve and sinew began to fail 
In the consulship of Plancus. 

And now the time has passed. The good horses 
have trotted, and cantered, and galloped away from 
out my life ; most of them from this fair earth 
altogether. Yet still, memory clings with curious 
fidelity to the equine friends of the good old time, 
indissolubly connected as they were with more 
important personages and events. 

Among the earliest blood sires that the dis- 
trict around Melbourne boasted were " Clifton " and 
"Traveller" — both New South Wales bred horses, and 
destined to spend their last years in the same stud. 
Of this pair of thoroughbreds, Clifton, a son of 
Skeleton and Spaewife, both imported, was bred by 
the late Mr. Charles Smith, and named Clifton after 
his stud farm near Sydney. " Skeleton," a grey horse 
of high lineage, own brother to " Drone," and the 
property of the Marquis of Sligo, was imported by 


the late Mr. William Edward Riley, of Raby, New 
South Wales. To him many of the best strains of 
the present day trace their ancestry. " Clifton," 
a lengthy bay horse, possessing size, speed, and 
substance, was purchased by Mr. Lyon Campbell, 
one of the earlier Melbourne magnates, formerly in 
the army, and by him kept at Campbellfield, on the 
Yarra, near the Upper Falls. His stock, of which 
we possessed several, were speedy and upstanding, 
great jumpers, and as a family the best tempered 
horses I ever saw. This descended to the second 
generation. You could " rope," as was the unfair 
custom of the day, any " Clifton " colt or filly, back 
them in three days, and within a week ride a journey 
or do ordinary station work with them. They were 
free and handy almost at once, and remained so, 
no matter how long a spell they were treated to after- 
wards. " Red Deer," with which Mr. Sam Waldock 
won the Jockeys' Handicap and the All-aged Stakes 
at Sandhurst, was a Clifton, bred by me. " Jupiter," 
the winner of the All-aged Stakes in Melbourne in very 
good company, in 1854 or thereabouts, was another, 
bred by Mr. James Irvine. His first purchaser put 
the tackle on him at Dunmore and rode him atvay 
the same day. He was never a whit the worse hack 
or racehorse for the abrupt handling. My old 
Clifton mare, " Cynthia," was ridden barebacked with 
a halter once, after nearly a year's spell. She was 
only five years old at the time. Observation of 
these and other traits confirmed mc in the opinion, 
which I have long held, that the method of breaking 
has little to do with a horse's paces, and less with 
his temper or general character. Bonus cqitus 


" nascitur, non fit" as is the poet. You can no more 
imbue the former with desirable dispositions by 
force of education, even the most careful, than the 
schools can turn out Tennysons and Brownings by 
completest tuition. 

" Traveller " was another " Sydney-side " celebrity, 
bred by the late Mr. Charles Roberts — if I mistake 
not, a turf antagonist of Mr. C. Smith. He was a 
very grand horse. " The sort we don't see now, sir," 
as the veteran turfite is so fond of saying. A son 
of " Bay Camerton," his ancestry ran back, through 
colonial thoroughbreds, to the Sheik Arab. Not 
more than fifteen hands in height, a beautiful dark 
chestnut in colour, he was a model of strength, 
speed, and symmetry. His shapes inclined more to 
the Arab type than to the long-striding, galloping 
machine into which the modern thoroughbred horse 
has been developed. Standing firmly on shortish, 
clean, iron-like legs, which years upon years of racing 
(in the days of heats too) had never deteriorated, he 
was a weight-carrier with the speed of a deer — a big- 
jawed Arab head, a well -shaped, high -crested neck, 
oblique shoulders, just room enough between them and 
a strong loin for a saddle, a back rib like a cask, high 
croup, muscular thighs, and broad, well-bent hocks. 
Everything that could be wished for as a progenitor 
of hacks, racers, and harness horses. His one defect 
was moral rather than physical. I shall allude to it 
in its place. His legs were simply wonderful. At 
twenty years old — about which time he died suddenly, 
never having suffered an hour's illness or shown the 
slightest sign of natural decay — they were as beauti- 
fully clean and sound as those of an unbroken three- 


year-old. He had run and won many a race, beginning 
as early as 1835, when he competed with Mr. C. 
Smith's Chester — a half-brother, by the way — on the 
old Botany Road racecourse, near Sydney. I, with 
other schoolboys, attended this meeting, and have a 
clear remembrance of the depth of the sand through 
which the cracks of the day — Whisker, Lady Godiva, 
Lady Emily, and others — had to struggle for the 
deciding heat. 

He was the property of Mr. Hugh Jamieson, of 
Tallarook, Goulburn River, as far back as 1841 or 
1842. That gentleman, one of the originators of 
the Port Phillip Turf Club, temporarily relinquished 
breeding, and Traveller passed into the hands of 
a discriminating and enthusiastic proprietor, Mr. 
Charles Macknight, late of Dunmore, and by him 
was employed in the foundation of the celebrated 
Dunmore stud. 

When I referred to the moral defect of" Traveller " 
— a horse that deservesto be bracketed with "Jorrocks" 
in the equine chronicles of Australia — my meaning 
had reference to the temper which he communicated 
to his immediate, and, doubtless, by the unvarying 
laws of heredity, to his remoter descendants. 

This was as bad as bad could be, chiefly expressed 
in one particular direction — the crowning character- 
istic vice of Australian horses — that of buck-jumping. 
Curiously, the old horse was quiet and well conducted 
himself, though there was a legend of his having 
killed a man on the Sydney racecourse by a kick. 
However that might be, he was apparently of a serene 
and generous nature. 

So was his first foal born at Dunmore. " St. 


George " was the offspring of" Die Vernon " by " Peter 
Fin," well known afterwards as a hunter, when owned 
by Alick Cuningham and James Murphy. " St. 
George," from circumstances, was a couple of years 
older than the first crop of Traveller foals, and, having 
been made a pet of by Mr. Macknight, was very 
quiet when broken in by that gentleman personally, 
a fine rough-rider and philosophical trainer as he 
was, a combination not often reached. Hence, from 
" St. George's " docility, great expectations were 
entertained of the temper of the " Traveller " stock. 

" All depends upon the breaking," says the 
young and ardent, but chiefly inexperienced, horse- 

" Not so ! The leading qualities of horse and 
man are strongly hereditary. Education modifies, 
but removes not, the inherited tendency — sometimes 
hardly even modifies." 

So, whether "Traveller's" dam had an ineradicable 
taste for " propping," or was cantankerous otherwise, 
disencumbering herself, on occasion, of saddle, rider, 
and such trifles, or whether he himself, in early 
youth, used to send the stable-boys flying ever and 
anon, I have no means of knowing. Nothing can 
be surer, however, than this fact, that most of the 
Traveller colts and fillies at Dunmore and surround- 
ing stations displayed an indisposition to be broken 
in little short of insanity. 

When ridden for the first time they fought and 
struggled, bucked and kicked, fell down, got up, 
and went at it again with unabated fury. Tamed by 
hard work and perseverance, when they were turned 
out for a little rest, they were nearly as bad, if taken 


up again, as at the first onset. When apparently 
quietened, they would set to work with a stranger as 
though he were some new species of pre-Adamite 
man. All sorts of grooms were tried, dare-devils who 
could ride anything, steady ones who mouthed care- 
fully and gave plenty of exercise and preparation. 
It was all the same in result. They were hard to 
break in, hard to ride when they were broken in, and 
sometimes hardest of all in the intervals of station 
work. Of course there were exceptions. But they 
were few. And a stranger who was offered a fresh 
horse at a station in the neighbourhood was apt to 
ask if he was a " Traveller " ; and if answered in the 
affirmative, to look askance and inquire when he had 
been ridden last, and whether he had then " done any- 
thing," before committing himself to his tender mercies. 
It was the more provoking because in all other 
respects the family character was unassailable. They 
were handsome and level of shape, iron-legged, full 
of courage and staying power, well-paced, and in 
some instances very fast — notably Tramp, Trackdeer, 
St. George, No Ma, Triton, The Buckley colt, and 
many others. Triton won the Three-year-old Stakes 
at Port Fairy against a good field, and the Geelong 
Steeplechase the year after, running up and winning 
on the post after a bad fall, and with his rider's 
collar-bone broken. The offspring of particular 
mares were observed to be better tempered than 
others. Triton's dam, Katinka, was a Clifton, and 
he was in the main good-humoured; though I re- 
member him throwing his boy just before a race. 
The "Die Vcrnons" were mostly like their mother, free 
and liberal-minded ; but many of the others — I may 


say most of them — were " regular tigers," requiring 
the horsemen who essayed to ride them habitually 
to be young, valiant, in hard training, and up to all 
the tricks of the rough -riding trade. That they 
seldom commended themselves to elderly gentlemen 
may easily be believed. Even here was the exception. 
The late Mr. Gray, Crown Lands Commissioner for 
the Western District, when on his rounds, took a 
fancy to a fine bay colt, just broken in, and bought 
him. He, however, caused a young police trooper 
to ride him provisionally, and for many a month he 
went about under one or other of the orderlies. I 
never observed the portly person of the Commissioner 
upon the bay colt. He eventually disposed of him 
untried for that service. 

Four colts in one year went to " that bourne from 
which no ' Traveller ' returns " — (James Irvine's joke, 
all rights reserved). One filly threw her rider on the 
run, galloped home, and broke her neck over the 
horse paddock fence, which she was too tete exaltee to 
remark. One reared up and fell over ; never rose. 
One broke his back, after chasing every one out of 
the yard, in trying to get under an impossible rail. 
And one beautiful cob (mine) fractured his spinal 
vertebrae in dashing at the gate like a wild bull. 

The history of this steed, and of others which I 
have observed more recently, has most fully satisfied 
me of the hereditary transmission of qualities in 
horse-breeding, and nothing, therefore, will convince 
me to the contrary. I was then in a position to try 
the experiment personally, as well as to see it tried. 

For, observe the conditions. The proprietors of 
Dunmore were young, highly intelligent persons, with 


a turn for scientific research ; good horsemen, all 
fond of that branch of stock-breeding. The run 
being of choice quality was comparatively small in 
extent. The stock were kept in paddocks for part 
of the year. The grooms were good, and always 
under strict supervision. The young horses were 
stabled and well fed during breaking, brushed and 
curry-combed daily. They were used after the cattle 
when partly broken — an excellent mode of com- 
pleting a horse's education. And yet the result 
was, as I have described, unsatisfactory. The 
majority of the young horses turned out of this 
model establishment were with great difficulty broken 
to saddle, and even then were troublesome and unsafe. 
How can this condition of affairs be accounted for, 
except upon the hypothesis that in animals, as in the 
human subject, certain inherited tendencies are re- 
produced with such strange similarity to those of 
immediate or remote ancestors as to be incapable 
of eradication, and well-nigh of modification, by 
training ? 

I may state here that I should not have entered 
so freely into the subject had the Dunmore stud, as 
such, been still in existence. Such is not the case. 
Two of the three proprietors, once high in hope and 
full of well-grounded anticipations of success in their 
colonial career, are in their graves. Dunmore, so 
replete with pleasant memories, has long been sold. 
The stud is dispersed. My old friend James Irvine, 
though still in the flesh and prospering, as he deserves, 
has only an indirect interest in the memory of 
" Traveller," whose qualities during life he would 
never have suffered to be thus aspersed. The 


" Traveller temper," still doubtless existent in various 
high-bred individuals, is perchance wearing out. 
After all, this equine exhumation is but the history of 
the formation of an opinion. It may serve a purpose, 
however, if it leads to the resolution in the minds of 
intending stud-masters, " never to breed from a sire 
of bad-tempered stock." 



ONCE upon a time, in a " kingdom by the sea," 
known to men as Port Fairy, " Yambuk " was a choice 
and precious exemplar of the old-fashioned cattle 
station. What a haven of peace — what a restful 
elysium, would it be in these degenerate days of 
hurry and pressure and progress, and all that — 
could one but fall upon it ! If one could only gallop 
up now to that garden gate, receive the old cordial 
welcome, and turn his horse into the paddock, what 
a fontaine de jouvence would bubble up ! Should one 
ride forth and essay the deed? It could hardly 
be managed. We should not be able to find our 
way. There would be roads and fences, with 
obtrusive shingled cottages, and wheat -fields, barns, 
and threshing machines — in short, all the hostile 
emblems of agricultural settlement, as it is called. 

I like it not ; I would the plain 
Lay in its tall old groves again. 

Fronting the farther side of the Shaw River, 
down to a bank of which the garden sloped, were 

chap, xxn YAMBUK 223 

broad limestone flats, upon which rose clumps of 
the beautiful blackwood or hickory tree, some of 
Australia's noblest growth, when old and um- 

The bungalow, low-roofed, verandah-protected, was 
thatched at the early period which I recall, the rafters 
the strongest of the slender ti-tree saplings in the 
brush which bordered the river-side. The mansion 
was not imposing, but what of that ? The rooms 
were of fair size, the hospitality refined, spontaneous, 
and pervading every look and tone ; and we, who in 
old days were wont to share it on our journeys to 
and from the metropolis of the district, would not 
have exchanged it for a palace. 

People were not so ambitious then as of late 
years. Nor was the transcendent future of stock- 
holding visible to the mental eye, when companies 
and syndicates would compete for the possession of 
mammoth holdings, with more sheep and cattle de- 
pasturing thereon than we then believed the whole 
colony could carry. 

No ! a man with a thousand head of well-bred 
cattle, on a run capable of holding half as many 
more, so as to leave a reserve in case of bush-fires 
and bad seasons, was thought fairly endowed with 
this world's goods. If prudent, he was able to afford 
himself a trip to Melbourne twice a year or so, and 
to save money in reason. He generally kept a few 
brood mares, and so was enabled to rear a superior 
hackney for himself or friend. As it was not the 
custom to keep more than a stock-rider, and one other 
man for general purposes, he had a reasonable share 
of daily work cut out for himself. 


" Yambuk " was then an extremely picturesque 
station, combining within its limits unusual variety 
of soil and scenery, land and water. The larger graz- 
ing portion consisted of open undulating limestone 
ridges, which ran parallel with the sea-beach. The 
River Shaw, deepening as it debouched on the ocean, 
was the south-eastern boundary of the run. All the 
country for some miles up its course, past the village 
of Orford, then only known as The Crossing Place, 
and along the coast-line towards Portland Bay, was 
originally within the bounds of the " Yambuk " run. 

Between the limestone ridges and the sea were 
sand-hills, thickly covered with the forest oak, which, 
growing almost to the beach, braved the stern sea 
blasts. Very sound and well sheltered were they, 
affording advantageous quarters to the herd in the 
long winters of the West. 

When our dreamy summer-time was o'er, a truly 
Arcadian season, with " blue and golden days " and 
purple-shadowed eves, wild wrathful gales hurtled 
over the ocean waste, rioting southward to the Pole. 
Mustering in stormy weather was a special experience. 
Gathering amid the sea-woods, the winter's day darken- 
ing fast, a drove of heavy bullocks, perhaps, lumbering 
over the sands before us, amid the flying spume, their 
hoofs in the surf ever and anon, — it was a season 
study, worth riding many a mile to see. No cove 
or bay restrained the angry waters. A misty cloud- 
rack formed the horizon, to which stretched the 
boundless ocean -plain of the Pacific, while giant 
billows, rank on rank, foamed fiercely landward, to 
meet in wrath and impotcntly rage on the lonely 
shore below us. 

xxn YAMBUK 225 

How often has that picture been recalled to me 
in later years amid the arid plains of Australia 
Deserta ! The sad-toned, far-stretching shore — the 
angry storm -voices of the terrible deep — the little 
band of horsemen — the lowing, half-wild drove — 
the red-litten cloud prison, wherein the sun lay 
dying ! 

Pleasant exceedingly, in contrast, when the cattle 
were yarded and rails securely pegged, to unsaddle 
and walk into the house, where lights and glowing 
fires, with a well-appointed table, awaited us, presided 
over by a Chatelaine whose soft voice and ever- 
varied converse, mirthful or mournful, serious or 
satirical, practical or poetic, never failed to soothe 
and interest. 

Stock-riding in those days, half real business, 
half sport, as we youngsters held it to be, was 
certainly not one of those games into which, as 
Lindsay Gordon sings — " No harm could possibly 
find its way." 

Part of the " Yambuk " run was distinctly 
dangerous riding. Where the wombats dug their 
treacherous shafts and galleries, how many a good 
steed and horseman have I seen o'erthrown ! These 
peculiar night-feeding animals, akin to the badger of 
the old country, burrowed much among the coast 
hummocks. Their open shafts, though not particularly 
nice to ride among at speed, with your horse's head 
close behind the hard-pressed steer, were trifling draw- 
backs compared to the horizontal " drives " into 
which, when mined too near the surface, your horse's 
feet often broke. The solid turf would disappear, 
and letting your horse into a concealed pitfall up to 



the shoulder, gave a shock that often told tales in a 
strained joint or a broken collar - bone. We fell 
lightly in those days, however, and, even when our 
nags rolled over us, scorned to complain of the trifling 

The limestone country, too,held cavities and sudden 
appearing fissures of alarming depth, which caused 
the fiery steed to tremble and the ardent rider to 
pale temporarily when suddenly confronted. At the 
south-eastern boundary of the run the forests were 
dense, the marshes deeper, the country generally 
more difficult, than on the coast-line. The ruder 
portion of the herd " made out " that way, and many 
a hard gallop they cost us at muster-time. 

The run had been " taken up " for and on account 
of Captain Baxter, formerly of Her Majesty's 50th 
Regiment, about a year before my time, that is in 
1843, by Mr. George Dumoulin, acting as overseer. 
This gentleman, a son of one of the early Imperial 
officials, and presumably of Huguenot descent, was 
a most amusing and energetic person. Inheriting 
the legerete of his Gallic ancestors, his disposition led 
him to be toujours gat, even under the most unpro- 
mising circumstances. A capital manager, in the 
restricted sense then most appreciated, he spent no 
money, save on the barest necessaries, and did all the 
stock-keeping himself, with the occasional aid of a 
black boy. When I first set eyes on Yambuk 
station there were but two small thatched huts, no 
garden, no horse -paddock, and a very indifferent 
stock-yard. The rations had run out lately — there 
was no salt, for one thing — and as the establishment 
had then been living upon fresh veal for a fortnight, 

xxn YAM B UK 227 

it was impressed upon me, forcibly, that no one 
here would look at fillets or cutlets of that " delicate 
meat that the soul loveth," under ordinary culinary 
conditions, for at least a year afterwards. 

Mr. Dumoulin, though wonderfully cheery as a 
general rule, was subject to occasional fits of de- 
spondency. They were dark, in proportion to his 
generally high standard of spirits. When this 
lowered tone set in, he generally alluded to his want 
of success hitherto in life, the improbability of his 
attaining to a station of his own, the easiest thing in 
those days if you had a very little money or stock. 
But capital being scarce and credit wanting for the 
use of enterprising speculators who had nothing but 
pluck and experience, it was hard, mostly impossible, 
to procure that necessary fulcrum. Regarding those 
things, and mourning over past disappointments, he 
generally wound up by affirming that " all the world 
would come right, but that poor Dumoulin would be 
left on his — beam ends — at the last." And yet 
what splendid opportunities lay in the womb of Time 
for him, for all of us ! So when Captain Baxter and 
his wife came from their New England home to take 
possession and live at Yambuk " for good," there 
was no necessity for Mr. Dumoulin to abide there 
longer, the profits of a station of that size rarely per- 
mitting the proprietor and overseer to jointly ad- 
minister. When the gold came we heard of him in 
a position of responsibility and high pay, but whether 
he rose to his proper status, or malignant destiny 
refused promotion, we have no knowledge. He was 
a good specimen of the pioneers to whom Australia 
owes so much — brave to recklessness, patient of toil, 


hardy, and full of endurance — a good bushman and 
first-class stock-rider. 

The captain and Mrs. Baxter drove tandem over- 
land the whole distance from New England to 
Yambuk, some hundreds of miles, encamping regu- 
larly with a few favourite horses and dogs. Their 
journal, faithfully kept, of each day's progress and the 
road events was a most interesting one, and would 
show that even before the days of Miss Bird and 
Miss Gordon-Cumming there were lady travellers who 
dared the perils of the wilderness and its wilder 
denizens. A fine horsewoman, passionately fond 
of her dumb favourites, Mrs. Baxter was as happy 
in the company of her nice old roan Arab " Kaffir," 
the beautiful greyhound " Ada," and the collie 
" Rogue," as more exigeantes, though not more gently 
nurtured dames, would have been with all the 
materials of a society picnic. 

One advantage of this sort of overland-route 
work is that when the goal is reached the humblest 
surroundings suffice for a home, all luxury and 
privilege being comprehended in the idea that you 
have not to move on next day. 

Once arrived, the abode en permanence is the 
great matter for thankfulness. The building may 
be unfinished and inadequate, not boasting even of 
a chimney, yet rugs are spread as by Moslems in 
a caravanserai, and all thank Allah fervently in 
that we are permitted to stay and abide there 

With the arrival of the master and mistress 
speedy alteration for the better took place. The 
cottage was built — an Indian bungalow in archi- 

xxn YAMBUK 229 

tecture — with wooden walls, the roof and verandahs 
thatched with the long tussock grass. A garden 
with fruit trees and flowers was planted, the fertile 
chocolate-coloured loam responding eagerly. Furni- 
ture arrived, including a piano and other lady adjuncts. 
A detached kitchen was constructed. Mr. Dumoulin's 
" improvements " were abandoned to the stock-rider, 
and the new era of " Yambuk " was inaugurated. 
Far pleasanter in every way, to my mind, than any 
which have succeeded it. The locale certainly had 
many advantages. It was only twelve miles from 
that fascinatingly pleasant little country town of 
Port Fairy — we didn't call it Belfast then, and 
didn't want to. The road was good, and admitted 
of riding in and out the same day. As it was a 
seaport town, stores were cheap, and everything 
needful could be procured from Sydney or Melbourne. 
There was then not an acre of land sold, west of the 
Shaw, before you reached Portland, and very little to 
the east, except immediately around the town. One 
cannot imagine a more perfect country residence, 
having regard to the period, and the necessities of 
the early squatting community. The climate was 
delightful. Modified Tasmanian weather prevailed, 
nearly as cold in winter, quite sufficiently bracing, 
but without frost, the proximity to the coast so 
providing. English fruits grew and bore splendidly. 
Finer apples and pears, gooseberries and cherries, no 
rejoicing schoolboy ever revelled in. The summers 
were surpassingly lovely, cooled with the breezes 
that swept over the long rollers of the Pacific, and 
lulled the sleeper to rest with the measured roll of 
the surge upon the broad beaches which stretched 


from the Moyne to Portland Bay. Talking of 
beaches, what a glorious sensation is that of riding 
over one at midnight ! 

Ah I well do I remember 
That loved and lonely hour 

when a party of us started one moonlight night to 
ride from Port Fairy to Portland (fifty miles) for the 
purpose of boarding an emigrant vessel, from which 
we hoped to be able to hire men-servants and maid- 
servants, then, as now, exceeding scarce. My grand 
little horse " Hope " had carried me from home, 
thirty miles, that day, but, fed and rested, he was 
not particular about a few miles farther. We dined 
merrily, and at something before ten o'clock set 
forth. Lloyd Rutledge, who was my companion, 
rode his well-known black hackney and plater, 
" Molonglo Jack." As we started at a canter along 
the Portland road — the low moon nearly full, and just 
rising, the sky cloudless — it was an Arabian Night,one 
for romance and adventure. The other horses had 
been in their stalls all day, but as I touched my lower 
bridle rein my gallant little steed — one of the most 
awful pullers that ever funked a Christian — rose on 
his hind legs and made as though about to jump on 
to the adjoining houses. This was only a trick I had 
taught him ; at a sign he would rear and plunge 
" like all possessed," but it showed that he was keen 
for business, and I did not fear trying conclusions 
with the best horse there. Like Mr. Sawyer's Jack- 
a-dandy, he would have won the Derby if it had 
not been more than half a mile. He did win the 
Port Fairy Steeplechase next year, over stiff timber, 

xxn YAM B UK 231 

with Johnny Gorrie on his back, and in good com- 
pany too. 

Away we went. The sands were some miles past 
Yambuk. When we rode down upon them, what 
wonders lay before us ! The tide was out. For 
leagues upon leagues stretched the ocean shore — a 
milk-white beach, wide as a parade-ground, level 
as a tennis-court, and so hard under foot that our 
horses' hoofs rang sharp and clear. Excited by the 
night, the moon, the novelty, they tore at their bits 
and raced one another in a succession of heats, 
which it took all our skill, aided by effective 
double bridles of the Weymouth pattern, to moderate. 
As for our companions, they were left miles behind. 

We were at the turn, just abreast of " Lady Julia 
Percy Island," which lay on the slumbering ocean's 
breast like some cloud fallen from the sky, or an 
enchanted isle, where the fairy princess might be 
imprisoned until the Viking's galley arrived, or the 
prince was conveniently cast away on the adjacent 

Far as eye could see shone the illimitable ocean, 
" still as a slave before his lord," star-brightened here 
and there. Southward a lengthening silver pathway 
rippled in the moon-gleam, shimmering and glowing 
far away towards the soft cloudland of the horizon. 
Tiny capes ran in from the forest border, and barred 
the line of vision from time to time. Sweeping 
around these, our excited horses speeding as they 
had become winged, we entered upon a fresh bay, 
another milk-white beach, fitted for fairy revels. 
While over all the broad and yellow moon shed 
a flood of radiance in which each twig and leaf of the 


forest fringe was visible. So still was the night 
that even " the small ripple spilt upon the beach" fell 
distinctly upon the ear. 

As the pale dawn cloud rose in the east, the 
slumbering ocean began to stir and moan. A land 
breeze came sighing forth from the dense forest like 
a reproachful dryad as we charged the steep side of 
Lookout Hill, and saw the roofs of Portland town 
before us. It was a longish stage — fifty miles — 
but our horses still pressed gaily forward as if the 
distance had been passed in a dream. We had no 
time to sentimentalise. Labour was scarce. We 
stabled our good steeds, and transferred ourselves to 
a waterman's boat. When the employers of Portland 
came on board in leisurely fashion some hours later, 
the flower of the farm labourers were under written 
agreement to proceed to Port Fairy. It rather 
opened the eyes of the Portlanders, whom, in the 
sauciness of youth, we of the rival township who 
called William Rutledge our mercantile chief were 
wont to hold cheap. They needed servants for farm 
and station, as did we, but there was no help for it ; 
they had to content themselves with what were left. 

Personally, I had done well. The brothers 
Michael and Patrick Horan — two fine upstanding 
Carlow men as one would wish to see — were inden- 
tured safely to me for a year. They served me well 
in the after-time. Their brother-in-law, with his wife, 
as a " married couple," and a smart " colleen " about 
sixteen, a younger sister, came with them. It was 
a " large order," but all our hands had cleared for 
Ballarat and Forest Creek ; we had hardly a soul 
in the place but the overseer and myself. These 

xxn YAMBUK 233 

immigrants were exactly of the class we wanted. 
I know a place where a few such shiploads would 
be of great and signal utility now. They were 
willing, well-behaved, and teachable. I broke in 
Pat Horan to the stock-riding business, and within 
a twelvemonth he could ride a buck-jumper, rope, 
brand, and draft with any old hand in the district. 
He repeatedly took cattle to market in sole charge, 
and was always efficient and trustworthy. Mick 
showed a gift for ploughing and bullock-driving, and 
generally preferred farming. They both remained 
with me for years — Pat, indeed, till the station was 
sold. They are thriving farmers, I believe, within a 
few miles of Squattlesea Mere, at this present day. 
I waited until nightfall, making arrangements to 
receive our engages when they should arrive in Port 
Fairy, and then mounted " Hope," in order to ride 
the thirty miles which lay between me and home. 
The old horse was as fresh as paint, and landed me 
there well on the hither side of midnight. One feels 
inclined to say there are no such horses nowadays, 
but there is a trifling difference in the rider's " form," 
I fancy, which accounts for much of this apparent 
equine degeneracy. Anyhow, Hope was a " plum," 
and so was his mother before him. Didn't she give 
me a fall over a fence at Yambuk one day, laming me 
for a week and otherwise knocking me about — the 
only time I ever knew her make a mistake ? But 
wasn't a lady looking on, and wouldn't I have broken 
my neck cheerfully, or any other important vertebra, 
for the sake of being pitied and petted after the 
event ? 

When the gold discovery, and the consequent 

234 OLD MELBOURNE MEMO RLE S chap, xxii 

rise in prices, took place, Captain Baxter was tempted 
to sell Yambuk with a good herd of cattle, and so 
departed for the metropolis. Our society began to 
break up — its foundations to loosen. People got so 
rich that they voted station life a bore, and pro- 
moted their stock-riders to be overseers in charge. 
Many of these were worthy people. But the charm 
of bush life had departed when the proprietor no 
longer greeted you on dismounting, when there was 
no question of books or music or cheery talk with 
which to while away the evening. And thinking 
over those pleasant homes in the dear old forest 
days, where one was always sure of sympathy and 
society, I know one wayworn pilgrim who will 
ever in fancy recur to the bon vieux temps whereof a 
goodly proportion — sometimes for one reason, some- 
times for another — was passed at Yambuk. 




I SEE a lone stream, rolling down 
Through valleys green, by ranges brown 

Of hills that bear no name, 
The dawn's full blush in crimson flakes 
Is traced on palest blue, as breaks 

The morn in Orient flame. 

I see — whence comes that eager gaze ? 
Why rein the steed, in wild amaze ? 

The water's hue is gold ! 
Golden its wavelets foam and glide, 
Through tenderest green to ocean-tide 

The fairy streamlet rolled. 

" Forward, ' Hope ! ' forward ! truest steed, 
Of tireless hoof and desert speed, 

Up the weird water bound, 
Till, echoing far and sounding deep, 
I hear old Ocean's hoarse voice sweep 

O'er this enchanted ground ? " 


The sea ! — wild fancy ! Many a mile 
Of changeful Nature's frown and smile 

Ere stand we on the shore. 
And, yet ! that murmur, hoarse and deep, 
None save the ocean-surges keep ? 

It is — " the cradles' roar ! " 

Onward ! we pass the grassy hill, 
Around the base the waters still 

Shimmer in golden foam ; 
O wanderer of the voiceless wild, 
Of this far southern land the child, 

How changed thy quiet home ! 

For, close as bees in countless hive, 
Like emmet hosts that earnest strive, 

Swarmed, toiled, a vast, strange crowd : 
Haggard each worker's features seem, 
Bright, fever-bright, each eye's wild gleam, 

Nor cry, nor accent loud. 

But each man dug, or rocked, or bore, 
As if salvation with the ore 

Of the mine-monarch lay. 
Gold strung each arm to giant might, 
Gold flashed before each aching sight, 

Gold turned the night to day. 

Where Eblis reigns o'er boundless gloom, 
And, in his halls of endless doom 

Lost souls for ever roam, 
They wander (says the Eastern tale), 
Nor ever startles moan or wail 

Despair's eternal home. 


Less silent scarce than that pale host 
These toiled, as if each moment lost 

Were the red life-drop spilt ; 
While, heavy, rough, and darkly bright, 
In every shape, rolled to the light 

Man's hope, and pride, and guilt. 

All ranks, all ages ! Every land 
Had sent its conscripts forth, to stand 

In the gold-seekers' rank : 
The stalwart bushman's sinewy limb, 
The pale-faced son of trade — e'en him 

Who knew the fetters' clank. 

'Tis night : her jewelled mantle fills 
The busy valley, the dun hills, 

'Tis a battle host's repose ! 
A thousand watch-fires redly gleam, 
While ceaseless fusillades would seem 

To warn approaching foes. 

The night is older. On the sward 
Stretched, I behold the heavens broad, 

When — a Shape rises dim, 
Then, clearer, fuller, I descry, 
By the swart brow, the star-bright eye, 

The Gnome-king's presence grim ! 

He stands upon a time-worn block ; 
His dark form shades the snowy rock 

As cypress marble tomb : 
Nor fierce yet wild and sad his mien, 
His cloud-black tresses wave and stream, 

His deep tones break the gloom. 


" Son of a tribe accursed, of those 
Whose greed has broken our repose 

Of the long ages dead, 
Think ye, for nought our ancient race 
Leaves olden haunts, the sacred place 
Of toils for ever fled ? 

" List while I tell of days to come, 
When men shall wish the hammers dumb 

That ring so ceaseless now ; 
That every arm were palsy-tied, 
Nor ever wet on grey hillside 
Was the gold-seeker's brow. 

" I see the old world's human tide 
Set southward on the ocean wide. 

I see a wood of masts, 
While crime or want, disease or death, 
With each sigh of the north-wind's breath, 

He on this fair shore casts. 

" I see the murderer's barrel gleam, 
I hear the victim's hopeless scream 

Ring through these crimeless wastes ; 
While each base son of elder lands 
Each witless dastard, in vast bands 
To the gold-city hastes. 

" Disease shall claim her ready toll, 
Flushed vice and brutal crime the dole 

Of life shall ne'er deny ; 
Danger and death shall stalk your streets, 
While staggering idiocy greets 

The horror-stricken eye ! 


" All men shall roll in the gold mire — 
The height, the depth of man's desire — 

Till come the famine years ; 
Then all the land shall curse the day 
When first they rifled the dull clay, 

With deep remorseful tears. 

" Fell want shall wake to fearful life 
The fettered demons. Civil strife 

Rears high a gory hand ! 
I see a blood-splashed barricade, 
While dimly lights the twilight glade 

The soldier's flashing brand. 

" But thou, son of the forest free ! 
Thou art not, wert not foe to me, 

Frank tamer of the wild ! 
Thou hast not sought the sunless home 
Where darkly delves the toiling Gnome, 
The mid-earth's swarthy child. 

" Then, be thou ever, as of yore, 
A dweller in the woods, and o'er 

Fresh plains thy herds shall roam. 
Join not the vain and reckless crowd 
Who swell the city's pageant proud, 

But prize thy forest home." 

He said : and, with an eldritch scream, 
The Gnome-king vanished — and my dream : 

Dawn's waking hour returned ; 
Yet still the wild tones echoed clear, 
For many a day in reason's ear, 

And my heart inly burned. 


OUT by the far west-waters, 

On the sea-land of the South, 
Untombed the bones of a white man lay, 
Slowly crumbling to kindred clay — 

Sad prayer from Death's mute mouth ! 

Alone, far from his people, 

The sun of his life went down. 
A cry for help ? No time — not a prayer : 
As red blood splashed thro' riven hair, 

His soul rose to Heaven's throne. 

Ah ! well for those felon hands 

Which the strong man foully slew, 
The cry from the Cross when our Saviour died 
" Father, forgive " — as they pierced His side — 
" For they know not what they do." 

They have souls, say the teachers 

Hereafter, the same as we : 
If so, it is hid from human grace 
By blood-writ crimes of savage race 

So deep, that we cannot sec. 

1 A young Englishman, "killed by blacks on the Barcoo." 


Fear than love is far stronger : 

The cruel have seldom to rue : 
The neck is bowed 'neath the heavy heel, 
Love's covenant with Death they seal ; 

" For they know not what they do." 

This Dead, by the far sun-down, 

This man whom they idly slew, 
Was lover and friend to those who had slain 
With him all human love, like Cain ; 

But " they know not what they do." 

'Twixt laws Divine and human 

To judge, if we only knew, 
When the blood is hot, to part wrong from right, 
When to forgive and when to smite 

Foes who " know not what they do." 

The wronger and wronged shall meet 

For judgment, to die, or live ; 
And the heathen shall cry, in anguish fell, 
At sight of the Bottomless Pit of Hell — 

" We knew not, O Lord ! Forgive." 


It is Autumn, it is sunset, magic shower of tint and hue; 
All the west is hung with banners, white with golden, 

crimson, blue ; 
Drooping folds ! far floating, mingling, falling on the 

river's face ; 
Upturned, placid, silver-mirrored, gazing into endless 


Faint the breath of eve, low-sighing for bright 

summer's fading charms ; 
Woodland cries are echoing, chiming with the sounds 

from distant farms ; 
And the stubble fires are gleaming red athwart 

the wood's deep shade, 
While the marsh mist, slowly rising, shrouds the 

greenery of the glade. 

Redly still the day is dying, as if o'er the desert waste, 
And we pictured camels, Arabs, and the solemn outline 

Of a pillared lonely Fane, clear against the crimson 

Voiceless, but of empire telling, and the lore of ages 



Low the deep voice of the ocean, whispering to the 
silent strand ; 

Gleam the stars, in silver ripples ; stretches broad the 
milk-white sand ; 

And a long, low bark is lying underneath the island 

Weird and dream -like, darksome, soundless, spell- 
struck now, and evermore. 

Deeper, darker fall the shadows, and the charmed 

colours wane, 
Fading, as the fay-gold changes into earth and dross 

Wildfowl stream in swaying files landward to the 

marshy plain ; 
Louder sound the forest voices and the deep tones 

of the main. 


The word is " Charge," the meaning " Death," 

Yet, welcome falls the sound 
On every ear in the listening host, 
Whose pennons flutter, zephyr-tossed, 

That messenger around. 

Among them Nolan reins a steed 

Frost-white with gathered foam, 
And pale and stern points to the foe, 
In heavy mass, receding slow — 

" Charge, comrades, charge them home 1 " 

There rides one with fearless brow, 

By time and sorrow scarred. 
For him life knows no tale untold, 
But empty names, love, hope, and gold, - • 

Cool player of Fate's last card ! 

Beside him, he whose golden youth 

Is in its pride and bloom. 
His thoughts are with a dear old home. 
Its loved ones, and that other one, 

And will she mourn his doom ? 


Another knows of a sweet fond face 

That will fade into ashy pale 
As she hears the tale of that day of tears ; 
And a prayer rises to Him who hears 

The widow and orphan's wail. 

" We die," passed through each warrior's heart, 

" And vainly, but the care 
Rests not with us ; 'tis ours to show 
The world, old England, and the foe, 

What Englishmen can dare." 

Then bridle-reins are gathered up, 

And sabres blaze on high, 
And as each charger bounds away 
Doubts flee like ghosts at opening day, 

And each man joys to die. 

St. George ! it is a glorious sight 

A splendid page of war, 
To mark yon gorgeous, matchless troop, 
Like some bright falcon, wildly swoop 

On the sullen prey before. 

Captain Martinet {loquitur). 

" Hurrah for the hearts of Englishmen, 
And the thoroughbred's long stride, 
As the vibrating, turf-tearing hoof-thunder rolled, 
'Twas worth a year of one's life, all told, 
To have seen our fellows ride ! " 


But what avails the sabre sweep ? 

There rolls the awful sound, 
Telling through heart, and limb, and brain, 
That the cannon mows its ghastly lane, 

And corses strew the ground. 

Ha ! Nolan flings his arms apart, 

And a death-cry rings in air ; 
And see, may Heaven its mercy yield ! 
His charger from a hopeless field 

Doth a dead rider bear. 

The gunners lie by their linstocks dead, 

While deep on every brow, 
In the bloody scroll of our island swords, 
Is the tale of each horseman's dying words, 
" Our memory is deathless now." 

Staggering back goes a broken band, 

With standards soiled and torn, 
With gory saddles and reeling steeds, 
And ranks that are swaying like surging reeds 
On a wild autumn morn. 

Despair has gazed on many a field 

Won by our fearless race ; 
And well the night wind, sighing low, 
Knows where, with breast broad to the foe, 

Is the dead Briton's place. 

But never living horsemen rode 

So near the eternal marge, 
As those who ran the tilt that day 
With Death, and bore their lives away 

From the Balaclava charge. 


Lift me down to the creek bank, Jack, 

It must be fresher outside ; 
The long hot day is well-nigh done ; 
It's a chance if I see another one ; 
I should like to look on the setting sun, 

And the water, cool and wide. 

We didn't think it would be like this 

Last week, as we rode together ; 
True mates we've been in this far land 
For many a year, since Devon's strand 
We left for these wastes of sun-scorched sand 
In the blessed English weather. 

We left when the leafy lanes were green 

And the trees met overhead, 
The rippling brooks ran clear and gay, 
The air was sweet with the scent of hay, 
How well I remember the very day 

And the words my mother said ! 

We have toiled and striven and fought it out 
Under the hard blue sky, 


Where the plains glowed red in tremulous light, 
Where the haunting mirage mocked the sight 
Of desperate men from morn till night, — 
And the streams had long been dry. 

Where we dug for gold on the mountain-side, 

Where the ice-fed river ran ; 
In frost and blast, through fire and snow, 
Where an Englishman could live and go, 
We've followed our luck through weal and woe, 

And never asked help from man. 

And now it's over, it's hard to die 

Ere the summer of life is o'er, 
When the pulse beats high and the limbs are stark, 
Ere time has printed one warning mark, 
To quit the light for the unknown dark, 

And, O God ! to see home no more ! 

No more ! no more ! I that always vowed 

That, whether or rich or poor, 
Whatever the years might bring or change, 
I would one day stand by the grey old grange, 
And the children would gather, all shy and strange, 

As I entered the well-known door. 

You will go home to the old place, Jack ; 

Then tell my mother for me, 
That I thought of the words she used to say, 
Her looks, her tones, as I dying lay, 
That I prayed to God, as I used to pray 

When I knelt beside her knee. 


By the lonely water they made their couch, 

And the southern night fast fled ; 
They heard the wildfowl splash and cry, 
They heard the mourning reeds' low sigh, 
Such was the Bushman's lullaby, — 

With the dawn his soul was sped. 


MORN on the waters ! the glad bird flings 
The diamond spray from his glittering wings. 
Old ocean lieth in dreamless sleep, 
As the slumber of childhood calmly deep, 
Light falls the stroke of the fisher's oar, 
As he leaves his cot by the shingly shore ; 
While the young wife's gaze, half sad, half bright, 
Follows the frail bark's flashing flight. 

Noon on the waters ! O rustling breeze, 

Sweet stealer 'mid old forest trees, 

Wilt thou not thy sweet whisper keep 

Nigh him who journeys the shadeless deep ? 

The wanderer dreams of the shadowy dell, 

And the green-turfed, fairy-haunted well, 

While the shafts of the noon-king's merciless might 

Mingle day with sorrow, and death with light. 

Night on the waters ! murmuring hoarse, 
The vexed deep threatens the bold bark's course, 
The thunder-growl and the tempest moan 
Sound like spirits that watch for the dying groan. 
The storm-fiend sweeps o'er the starless waste, 
And the unchained blasts to the gathering haste ; 
Man alone, unshaken, his course retains, 
While the elements combat and chaos reigns. 


A young Lady of twenty-three years of age, as a teacher in 
a Ladies' School. Satisfactory references required.— 
" Times " Advertisement. 

Why should I be twenty-three ? 

What are the virtues they can see 

Just about to bloom in me 

In the magical year of twenty-three ? 

Does a maiden, fair and free, 

Get prudent just at twenty-three ? 

Whatever can the reason be 

That they want a girl just twenty-three ? 

Dignified matron, whoever you be, 
Would not twenty -two do for thee ? 
Would twenty-one be shown to the door, 
And twenty told to come no more? 
Nineteen, perhaps, would hardly be fit, 
Eighteen strikes one as rather a chit. 
Why must you search o'er land and sea 
For the golden age of twenty -three ? 

Still the years glide on — for you and for me, 
We're nearer, or farther from, twenty-three. 


Oft, as I sit over my five o'clock tea, 

I think, did she get her ? age twenty-three ! 

When friends are cold and unkind to me, 

I think there's a refuge when twenty-three. 

On my birthday I'll write, unknown friend, to thee, 

Exclaiming, " Here, take me, I'm tiventy-three I " 


She is beautiful yet, with her wondrous hair 
And eyes that are stormy with fitful light, 

The delicate hues of brow and cheek 

Are unmarred all, rose-clear and bright ; 

That matchless frame yet holds at bay 

The crouching bloodhounds, Remorse, Decay. 

There is no fear in her great dark eyes — 

No hope, no love, no care, 
Stately and proud she looks around 

With a fierce, defiant stare ; 
Wild words deform her reckless speech, 
Her laugh has a sadness tears never reach. 

Whom should she fear on earth ? Can fate 

One direr torment lend 
To her few little years of glitter and gloom 

With the sad old story to end, 
When the spectres of Loneliness, Want, and Pain 
Shall arise one night with Death in their train ? 


I see in a vision a woman like her 

Trip down an orchard slope, 
With rosy prattlers that shout a name 

In tones of rapture and hope ; 
While the yeoman, gazing at children and wife, 
Thanks God for the pride and joy of his life. 

Whose conscience is heavy with this dark guilt ? 

Who pays at the final day 
For a wasted body, a murdered soul, 

And how shall he answer, I say, 
For her outlawed years, her early doom, 
And despair — despair — beyond the tomb ? 



IN the old tower they stand at bay, 
Where the Moslem fought of old ; 

True to their race, in that sad day 
Their lives are dearly sold. 

They are but three ; a woman fair, 

A boy of fearless brow, 
He, whom she vowed to love is there — 

God help her ! then and now. 

With fiercer leaguer never did 
Those rugged stones resound, 

As the swarthy yelling masses swayed 
The time-worn keep around. 

Our death-doomed brothers fired fast, 

Our sister loaded well ; 
With each rifle-crack a spirit passed ; 

By scores the rebels fell. 


Though corses choke the narrow way, 

Still swarms the demon hive ; 
Like a tolling bell each heart will say 

" We ne'er go forth alive ! " 

Undaunted still — the leaden rain 

Slacks not one moment's space — 
With a crashing bullet through his brain, 

The boy drops on his face ! 

With outstretched arms, with death-clutched hands, 

His mother's darling lies, 
No more, till rent the grave's dark bands, 

To glad her loving eyes. 

Gone the last hope ! faint gleam of light — 

Death stalks before their eyes — 
While yells and screams of wild delight 

From the frenzied crowd arise. 

O God of mercy ! can it be ? 

It is a hideous dream — 
No ! — nearer rolls the human sea, 

Arms flash, and eyeballs gleam. 

He thinks of her, pale, tender, fair — 

To nameless tortures given, 
Gore-stained and soiled the bright brown hair — 

His very soul is riven. 

He lifts the weapon. Did he think 

Of a happy summer time — 
Of the village meadow — river brink, 

Of the merry wedding chime ? 


Little he dreamed of this dreary Now, 

Or that ever he should stand 
With the pistol-muzzle at her brow, 

The trigger in his hand ! 

They kissed — they clung in a last embrace, 
They prayed a last deep prayer — 

Then proudly she raised her tearful face, 
And a corse lay shuddering there ! 

He stooped, his love's soft eyes to close, 
He smoothed the bright brown hair, 

Smiled on the crowd of baffled foes, 
Then, scattered his brains in air. 


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April, 1S96. 






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Abrahams (I.). . . 42 
Abbey (E. A.) . . 15,47 
Abbot (F.E.) ... 42 
Abbott (E. A.) 6, 17, 38, 39, 42 
Acton (Lord) . . .11 
Adams (Sir F. O.) . . 36 
Addison . . 4, 24, 25 

JEsop. ... 14, 48 
Agassiz (L.) ... 4 
Ainger (Rev. A.) 5, 20, 27, 42 
Ainslie(A. D.). . . 18 
Airy (Sir G. B.) . 3, 34 
Aitken (Mary C.) . . 25 
Aitken (Sir W.) . . 30 
Albemarle (Earl of) . 4 
Aldous (J. C. P.) . 40, 41 
Aldrich (T. B.) . . 17 
Alexander (C. F.) . . 25 
Alexander (T.) . 10 

Alexander (Bishop) . 42 
Allbutt(T. C.) . . 28 
Allen (G.) ... 7 
Allingham (W.) . . 25 
Amiel(H. F.) ... 4 
Anderson (A.). . . 17 
Anderson (L.). . . 2 
Anderson (Dr. McCall) , 28 
Andrews (C. M.) . . 11 
Andrews (Dr. Thomas) . 33 
Appleton (T. G.) . 46 

Archer-Hind (R. D.) 46 

Arkold(M.) 9, 17, 24, 25, 38, 39 
Arnold (Dr. T.) . . n 
Arnold (W. T.) . . n 
Ashley (W. J.). . 4, 35 
Atkinson (G. F.) . . 7 
Atkinson (J. B.) . . 2 
Atkinson (Rev. J. C.) 2, 48 
Attwell(H.). . . 25 
Austen (Jane) . . .21 
Austin (Alfred) io, 17, 24 

Autenrieth (Georg) . Q 
Awdry (F.) . . 48 

B\con (Francis) . 4. 24, 25 
Badenoch (L. N.) . 30, 50 
Bailey (L. H.) . . 10 
Baines (Rev. E.) . . 42 
Baker (SirS. W.)4, 36,37, 47,48 

Balch (Elizabeth) 
Baldwin (Prof. J. M.) 
Balfour (F. M.) . 
Balfour (J. B.) 
Ball (J.) . 
Ball fW. Piatt) 
Ball(W.W. R.) . 
Ballance (C. A.) . 
Barker (G. F.) 
Barker (Lady) . 2, g 
Barlow (J.) 
Barnard (C.) . 
Barnes (R. H.) 
Barnes (W.) . 
Barnett (E. A.) 
Barry (A.) 
Bartholomew (J. G.) 
Bartlett < J.) . 
Barwell (R.) . 

• 14 
> 33 

• 7 

• 7 



IS, 28 

. 28 

• 33 
47, 48 
14, 48 

• 34 

• 5 

• 4 
9, 37 

• 42 

• 3 
9. 17 
. 28 

Bastable (Prof. C. F.) 
Bateman (J.) . 
Bates (K. L.) . 
Bateson (W.) 
Bath (Marquis of) . 
Bather (Archdeacon) 
Baxter (L.) . 
Beesly (Mrs.) . 
Behrens (H.) . 
Benedikt (R.) 
Benham (Rev. W.) . 
Benson (Archbishop) 
Benson (W. A. S.) 
Bentley . 
Berlioz (H.) . 
Bernard (C. E.) 
Bernard (J. H.) 
Bernard (H. M.) 
Bernard (M.) . 
Bernaud (T. D.) 
Berners (J.) . 
Besant (Sir W.) 
Bettany (G. T.) 
Bickerton (T. H.) 
Bigelow(M. M.) 
Bikblas (D.) . 
Binnie (Rev. W.) 
Birks (T. R.) 7, 
Bjornson (B ) . 
Black (W.) . 
Blackburne (E.) 
Blackib (J. S.) 
Blake (J. F.) . 
Blake (W.) . 
Blakiston (J. R.) 
Blanford(H. F.) 
Blanford (W. T.) . 
Blennerhassett (R.) 
Blomfield (R.) 
Blyth (A. W.) . 
Bohm-Bawerk (Prof,) 
Boldrewood (Rolf), 


Bond (Rev. J.). 
Boole (G.) 
Booth (C.) 


Borrow (G.) . 
Bosanquet (B.) 
Bose (W. P. du) 


Boutmy (E.) . 
Bowen (H. C.) . 
Bower (F. O.) . 
Bradford (A. H.) 
Bradford (G.). 
Bradley (A. G.) 
Brbtt (R. B ) . 
Bridges (J. A.). 
Bright (U. A.). 
Bright (John) . 
Brimley(G.) . 
Brodie (Sir B.). 
Brodribb (W. J.) 
Brooke (Sir J.) 
Brooke (S. A.). 








, 11 



, 41 









4 2 

, 4 2 





II, 17, 24 





11, 30 












16, 46 


Brooks (Bishop) 
Brown (Prof. C.) 
Brown (J. A.) . 
Brown (Dr. James) 
Brown (T. E. ) . 
Browne (J. H B.) 
Browne (Sir T.) 
Bruce (P. A.) . 
Brycb (James) . 
Buchheim (C. A.) 

Bucknill (Dr. J. C 
Buckton (G. B.) 

Burdett (C. W. B.). 


Burkb (E.) 

Burn (R.). 

Burnett (F. Hodgson) 


Bury (J. B.) . 

Butcher (Prof. S. H.) 


7, 9, 32 

Butler (A. J.) . 
Butler (Rev. G.) 
Butler (Samuel) 
Butler (Archer) 
Butler (Sir W. F.) 
Buxton (Mrs. S.) 

Cairnes (J. E.) 
Cajori (F.) 
Caldecott (R.) 
Calderwood (H.) 
Calderwood (W. L 
Calvert (Rev. A.) 
Cameron (V. L.) 
Campbell (D. H ) 
Campbell (Sir G.) 
Campbell (J. D.) 
Campbell (J. F.) 
Campbell (Dr. J. M 
Campbell (Prof. Lewis) 
Capes (W.W.). 
Carles (W. R.) 
Carlyle (T.) . 
Carmarthen (Lady) 
Carnarvon (Earl of) 
Carnot (N. L. G.) . 
Carpenter (Bishop) 
Carr(J.C) . 
Carroll (Lewis) 
Carter (R. Brudenell) 
Cattel(J. McK.) . 
Cautley(G. S.) 
Cazenove (J. G.) . 
Chalmers (J. A.) . 
Chalmers (J. B.) 
Chalmers (M. D.) . 
Chapman (Elizabeth R.) 
Chappell (\V ). 
Chase ^ev. F. H.). 







12, 35 


11, 3 6 

• 25 
. 12 

• 29 

• 5° 


4, 24 

. 12 

16, 24, 46 
17, 46 




























1 1 7 





Chasseresse (Diana) . 37 
Chaucer ... 16, 17 
Cheetham (Archdeacon). 40 
Cherry (R. R.) . .15 
Cheyne (C. H. H.) . .3 
Cheyne (T. K.) . . 39 
Chirol(V.) ... 36 
Christie {\V. D.) . . zs 
Church (Rev. A. J.).4,i6,38,46 
Church (F. J.). . 20, 46 
Church (R. W.). 

4, s, 6, 12, 17, 24, 41, 42 
Clare (G.) ... 35 
Clark (J. W.) ... 25 
Clark (L.) . . . 3 
Clark (R) . . . 37 
Clark (S.) ... 4 
Clark (T. M.). . . 10 
Clarke (C B.). . 10,35 
Cleveland (Duchess) . 5 
Clifford (Ed.) . . 4 
Clifford (W. K.) . 24, 33 
Clifford (Mrs. W. K.) . 48 
Clough (A. H.) .18,24,25 
Cobden (R.) . . . 3 6 
Cohen (J. B.) . . .8 
Cole (G. A. G.) . . 47 

COLENSO (J. W.) . . 41 

Coleridge (C. R.) . . 24 

Coleridge (S. T.) . 4, 18 

Collier (Hon. John) . 2 

Collins (C ) . .10 

Collins (J. Churton) . 24 

Colquhoun (F. S.) . . 18 

Colvin (Sidney) . 5, 26 

Combe (G.) . . 4, 10 

Commons (J. R.) . . 35 

Congreve (Rev. J.) . . 42 

Conway (Hugh) . . 21 
Cook(E.T.) ... 2 

Cooke (A. H.) . . .30 

Cooke (C. Kir.loch) . . 30 

Cooke (J. P.) . . 8, 43 

Cooper (E. H.) . .21 
Corbett(J.) . 4, 21, 48 

corfield (w. h.) . . 14 

Cornish (F.) . . . 43 

Corson (H ) . . .24 

Cossa (L.) . . . 35 

Cotes (E.). . . 21 


Cotton (Bishop) . . 43 
Cotton (C.) . . . 15 
Cotton (J. S.) . . 36 

Coues (E.) . . .50 
courthoi'e (w. j.) . 4,1*5 
cowell (g.) . . . 2q 
Cowper . . .18, 24, 25 
Cox(G. V.) ... 12 
CRAlK(Mrs.) 18,21,24,25,47,48 
Craik (H.) . 6, 10, 24, 36 
Crane (Lucv) . . .47 
Crane (Walter) . . 47 
Craven (Mrs. D.) . . 9 
Crawford (F. M.) .14,21,24 
Creighton (BUhop M.) 5, 12 


Cross (J. A.) ... 38 
Crosskey (R.) . . . 14 
Crossi 1 v (K.) ... 3 
Crossley (H.) . . .46 

CUMMING (L.) . . .33 

CUNLIFFE (J. W.) . . 24 

Cunningham (C.) . . 36 


Cunningham (Sir H.S.). 21 
Cunningham (Rev. J.) . 40 


Cunynghame (Sir A. X.) . 30 
Curteis (Rev. G. H.) 40, 43 
Curtin (J.) . . .21 
D'Arcy (C F.). . .32 
Dabbs (G. H. R.) . . 18 
Dahlstrom (K. P.). . 10 
Dahn (F.) . . . 21 

Dakyns(H.G.) . . 46 
Dale (A. W. W.) . . 40 
Dalton (Rev. J. N.) . 46 
Daniell (Alfred). . . 33 
Dante . . .4, 17, 46 
Dasent (A. I.). . . 12 
Davidson (Bishop) . 41, 43 
Davies (Rev. J. LIA 40,43 
Davies (W/ . . 6, 43 
Davis (R. H.) . . . 21 
Dawkins (W. B.) . . 1 
Dawson (G. M.) . . 11 
Dawson (Sir J. W.) . . 11 
Dawson (W. J.) . . 18 
Day(L. B.) ... 21 
Day(R. E.) ... 33 
Dean (A.). . . .10 
Dean(B.). . . -49 
Defoe (D.) . . 5, 25 
Degerdon (W. E.) . . 38 
Di ighton (K.). 5, ig, 24, 27 
Dei.amotte (P. H.). . 3 
Delbos (L.) . . .31 
Dell(E.C) . . 14 

De Morgan (M.) . . 48 
Deussen(P.) . . . 32 
De Quatrefages (A.) . 1 
De Varigny (H.) 7 

De Vere(A.) . . iS, 24 
Disraeli (B.) . . . 22 
Dicey (A. V.) . . 15, 3 6 
Dickens (C.) . . 21,24 
Dickens (M. A.) . 22,24 
Diggle (Rev. J. W.). . 43 
Dilke (Ashton W.) . . 24 
Dilke (Sir Charles W.) 30, 36 
Dillwyn (E. A.) . . 22 
Dobbin (L.) ... 8 
Dobson (A.) . . 5, 14 
Donaldson (J.) . . 41 
Donisthorpe (\V.) . . 36 
Dorr (J. C. R.) . . 47 
Dowden (E.) 5, 17, 19, 26 

Doyle (Sir F. H.) . . 18 
Doyle (J. A.) . . .12 
Drage(G.) . -37 

Drake (B.) . . .46 
Drum mond (Prof. J.) . 43 
Dryden ... 24, 25 
Du Cane (E. F.) . . 36 
Dupp(Sir M. E. G.) 6, 24, 36, 47 
Dunsmuir (A.). . . 22 
DOntzer (H.) . . . 5, 6 
Durand (Sir M.) . . 22 
Dyer (I,.). . . 2, 35 
Dyer (H.). . . -37 
Eadie(J.). . . 4, 38, 40 
Earl (A.). . . .33 
Eastlake (Lady) . . 41 
Ebers(G) ... 22 
Eccles (A. S.) . . . 29 
1 i" i.worth (Prof. F. Y.). 35 
I .1-. worth (M.) . . 22 

1 Edmunds (Dr. W.) . . 28 


Edwards-Moss (Sir J. E.) 38 
Ehlers (E. S.). 
Eimer(G. H.T.) . 
Elderton (W. A.) . 
Ellerton (Rev. J.) . 
Elliott (Hon. A.) . 
Ellis (A.). 
Ellis (T.). 
Emerson (R. W.) . 
Emerson (O. F.) 
Hkman (A.) 
Evans (Lady) . . 
Evans (S.) 
Everett (J. D.) 
Falconer (Lanoe) . 
Farrar (Archd.) 
Farrer (Sir 'I. H.) . 
Fasnacht (G. E.) . 
Faulkner (F.). 
Fawcett (Prof. H.). 
Fawcett (Mrs. H.) . 
Fay (Amy) . . 
Fayrek (Sir J.). 

6, 39 


Fearnley (W.^ 












• 3<5 
. 14 

• 34 

• 34 

• 33 

. 13 

• M 

• 33 
37. 43 


Fearon (D. R 
Ferrel (W.) . 
Fessenden (C.) . 
Field (Rev. T.) 
Fielde(A. M.). 
Finck (H. T.) . 
Fisher (Rev. O.) 
Fiske(J.). 7, 12, 32, 
Fitch (J- G.) . . .10 
Fitz Gerald (Caroline) . 18 
Fitzgerald (Edward) 18, 25 
Fitzmaurice (Lord E.) 6 

Flagg(A. T.) . . . 31 
Fleischer (E ). . .8 
Fleming (G.) . . .22 
Flory (M. A.) ... 3 
Flower (Sir W. H.). . 49 
FlOckiger (F. A.) . . 2g 
Fonda (A. J.) ... 35 
Forbes (A.) . . 4, 47 
Forbes (Prof. G.) . . 3 
Forbes (Rev. G.) . . 43 
Forbes-Mitchell (W.) 5, 47 
Fortescue (Hon. J. W.).4,3o 
Foster (Prof. M.) . 7, 34, 35 
Fostek-Melliar (A.) . 10 
o, 29 

Fothergill (Dr. J. M.) 

36, 43 

5> 3» 

25, 3° 


Fowler (Rev.T.) 
Fowler (W.W.) .2, 
Fox(T. W.) . 
Fox (Dr. Wilson) 
Foxwell (Prof. H. S) 
Framji (D.) . 
Francis (F.) . 
Frankland(P. F.) . 
Fuasi r (Mrs.) . 
Fraser (Bishop) 
Fraser-Tytler (C. C.) 
Frazer (J. G.) . 
Freeman (Prof. E. A.) 

2, 5. ". 37, 40 
French (G. R.) 
Friedmann (P.) 
Frost (A. B.) . 
Froudk (J. A.). 
Fullerton (W. M.) 
















FYFFE (C. A.) . . . 12 

Fyfe(H. H.) ... ii 
Gairdner (J.) ... 5 
Gaisford (H.) . . . io 

GALT (J.) .... 22 

Galton (F.) ... i 
Gamgee (Arthur) . . 35 
Gardner (E.) ... 2 
Gardner (Percy) 
Garnett (R.) . 
Garnett (W.) . 
Gaskell (Mrs.) 
Gaskoin (Mrs. H.) 
Geddes (W. D.) 
Gee(H.) . 
Gee (W. W. H.) 
GEiKia(Sir A.). 4,5,6, 
Gennadius (I.) 
Genung(I. F.) 
George (H. B.) 
Gibbins (H. de B.) . 
Gibbon (Charles) 
Gillies (H C.) 
Gilchrist (A.). 
Giles (P.). 
Gilman (N. P.) 
Gilmore (Rev. J . ) . 
Gladstone (Dr. J. H.) 
Gladstone (W. E.). 
Glaister (E.) . 
Glover (E.) 


Godkin(G. S.). 

Goethe . . 5, 14, 

Goldie (J.) 

Goldsmith 5, 14, 18, 

Gonner(E. C. K.) . 

Goodfellow (J.) 

Goodnow (F. J.) 

Gordon (General C. G.) 

Gordon (Lady Duff) 

Gordon (H.) . 

Goschen (Rt. Hon. G. J. 

Gosse (Edmund) 

Gow(J.) . 

Gow (W.) 

Gracian (Balthasar) 

Graham (D.) . 

Graham (J. W.) 

Grand'homme (E.) . 

Grane(W. L.). 


Gray (Prof. Andrew) 

Gray (Asa) 

Gray . . .5 

Gray (J. L.) . 

Gregory (R. A.) 

Green (J. R.) 11, 12, 14, 25, 26 

Green (Mrs. J. R.) . 5, 11, 12 

Green (W. S.) . 

Grkenhill (W. A.) 

Greenwood (F.) 

Greenwood (J. E.) 

Grenfell (Mrs.) 

Griffiths (W. H.) 


Grove (Sir G.). 

Guest (E.) 

Guest (M.J.) . 

Guillemin (A.) 

Guizot (F. P. G.) 

GUNTON (G.) . . .35 

GwATKIN (H. M.) . . 40 

Halle (E. von) . . 35 

17, «6 
. 4° 




;■ 37 

, 10 

2, 9 



Si 26 





5, 16 







Hales (J. W.) . 18, 21, 25, 26 
Hallward (R. F.) . . 15 
Hamerton (P. G.) . 3, 15, 26 
Hamilton (Prof. D. J.) . 29 
Hamilton (J.). . . 43 
Hanbury (D.) . . 7, 29 
Hannay (David) . . 4 
Harden (A.) ... 8 
Hardwick (Archd. C.) 40, 43 
Hardy (A. S.) . . . 22 
Hardy (W. J.). . . 4° 
Hare (A. W.) ... 26 
Hare (J. C.) ... 43 
Harker(A.) . . .34 
Harris (Rev. G. C). . 43 
Harrison (F.). 5, 6, 12, 15, 26 
Harrison (Miss J.). . 2 
Harte (Bret) . . . 22 
Hartig (Dr. R.) . .7 
Hartley (Prof. W. N.) . 8 
Hassall (A.) ... 12 
Hatch (F. J.) . . . " 
Hauser(K.) ... 5 
Hawkins (H. P.) . . 29 
Hayes (A.) . . 18 

Headlam (A. C.) . . 2 
Headley (F. W.) . 30, 50 
Heaviside (O.) . . 34 
Helm(E.). . . .35 
Helps (Sir A.) . . .26 
Hempel (Dr. W.) . . 8 
Henley (W. E.) . . 15 
Herman (H.) . . .23 
Herodotus . . .46 
Herrick . . . .25 
Herrmann (G.) . . 10 

HERTEL(Dr-) . . .10 

Hertz (H.) ... 34 
Hickie (W. J.). . . 39 
Higinbotham (C. J.) . 5 
Hill (D.J.) ... 32 
Hill (F. Davenport) . 37 
Hill(0.). ... 37 
Hill(G. B.) ... 12 
Hiorns (A. H.) . 29, 30 
Hobart (Lord) . . 26 

Hobday (E.) . . .10 
Hodgson (Rev. J. T.) . 5 
Hoffding (Prof. H.) . 33 
Hoffman (W. J.) . .1 
Hofmann(A.W.) . . 8 
Hole (Rev. C). . 9, I2 
Holiday (Henry) . . 48 
Holland (T. E.) . 15, 37 
Hollway-Calthrop(H.) 48 
Holm (A.). . . .13 
Holmes (O. W.,junr.) . 15 
Homer ... 17, 46 
Hood(T.). . . .15 
Hooker (Sir J. D.) . 7,47 
Hoole (C. H.) . . . 39 
Hooper (G.) ... 4 
Hooper (W. H.) . .3 
Hopkins (E.) ... 18 
Hoppus(M. A. M.) . . 22 
Horace . . 17, 25, 46 

Hort (F. J. A.). 39, 40, 41, 43 
Horton (Hon. S. D.) . 35 
Hosken (J- D ) • • l8 
Hovenden (R. M.) . . 46 
Howell (George) . 15, 35 
Howes (G. B.) . . 35,49 
Howitt (A. W.) . . 1 
Howson (Very Rev. J. S.) 41 

Hozier (Col. H. M.). . 30 
Hubner (Baron) . . 47 
Hughes (T.) 

4, 5, 18, 22, 25, 41, 43, 47 
Huddilston (J. H.) . 39 
Hull(E.) . . 2, 11 

HULLAH (J.) . . 2, 25, 30 

HuMPHRY(Prof.SirG.M.) 35,49 
Hunt (Rev. W.) . . 12 
Hunt (W.) ... 3 
Hutchinson (G. W. C.) . 3 
Hutton (R. H.) . 5, 26 
Hutton (Rev. W. H.) . 5 
Huxley (T) 

5, 26, 32, 33, 34, 35, 37, 49 
Hyde (W. de W.) . . 43 
Illingworth (Rev. J. R.) 43 
Impey(S. P.) . . • 29 
Ingram (T. D.) . . 13 
Ireland (A.) . . .26 
Irving (H.) . . .20 
Irmng (J.) ... 11 
Irving (Washington) . 15 
Jack (A. A.) . . 17 

Jackson (D. C.) . . 34 
Jackson (F. G.) . . 47 
Jackson (Helen) . . 22 
Jacob (Rev. J. A.) . 43 

Jacobs (J.) . .14,25,47 
James (Henry). . 5,22,26 
James (Rev. H.) . . 43 
James (Prof. W.) . . 33 
jARDINE(Rev. R.) . . 33 

Jeans (Rev. G E.) . 43, 46 
J ebb (Prof. R. C.) 4,13,16,26 
Jellett (Rev. J. H.) . 43 
Jenks (Prof. Ed.) . . 37 
Jennings (A. C.) . 13,38 
Jersey (Countess of) . 48 
Jephson(H.) . -37 

Jevons (W. S.) 5, 3?> 35, 36, 37 
Jex-Blake (Sophia). . 9 
Joceline (E.) . . .26 
Johnson (Amy) . . 34 
Johnson (Samuel) . 5, 16, 25 
Jolley(A. J.) ... 39 
Jones (Prof. D. E.) . . 34 
Jones (F.). ... 8 
Jones (H. Arthur) .16, 18, 26 
Jones (H. S.) . . .2 
Julius (Dr. P.). . . 9 
Kahlden (C.) . . .29 
Kalm (P.) . . . 47 
Kant . . . -32 
Kanthack (A. A.) . . 29 
Kari .... 48 

K.AVANAGH(Rt.Hn.A.M.) 5 
Kav(R«v.W.). . . 39 
Keary (Annie). 13,22,38,48 
Keary (Eliza) . . .48 
Keats . . .5, 25, 26 
Keble(J.). . . . 25 
Kellner (Dr. L.) . . 31 
Kellogg (Rev. S. H.) . 43 
Kelly (E.) . . -43 
Keltie (J. S.) . . . 38 
Kelvin (Lord). 11, 31, 33, 34 
Kempe (A. B.) . . -33 
KENNEDV(Prof.A. B. W.) io 

Kennedy (B. H.) . . 46 
Kennedy (P.) . . .22 
Keynes (J. N.). . 32,36 
Kidd(B.) ... 37 

KlEPERT (H.) . . .II 



KlMBER (D. C.) . . as 

KlNG(F. H.) ... I 
KlNG(G.). ... 13 

Kingsley(G.) . . .38 
Kingsley (Henry) . 25, 47 
Kipling (J. L.). . . 47 
Kipling (Rudyard) . 23, 48 
Kirkpatrick (Prof.) 38, 43 
Klein (Dr. E.). . 7, 29, 30 
Klein (F.) ... 28 
Knight (W.) . 17, 28, 32 
Kuenen (Prof. A.) . . 38 
Kynaston (Rev. H.) 43, 46 
Labberton (R. H.). . 3 
La Farge (J.) ... 3 
Lafargub (P.). . . 23 
Lamb. . . .5, 25, 27 
Lanciani (Prof. R.). . 3 
Landauer (J.). . . 8 
Landor . . . 5, 25 
Lane-Poole (S.) . 6, 25 
Lanfrey (P.) ... 5 
Lang (Andrew) 15, 26, 46 

Lang (Prof. Arnold). . 4y 
Langley (J. N.) . . 34 
Langmaid (T.). . 10 

Lankestek (Prof. Ray) 7, 27 
Lassar-Cohn (Dr.). . 8 
Laslett (T.) ... 7 
Laughton (J. K.) . . 4 
Laurie (A. P.). . .1,3 
Lawrence (T. J.) . . 15 
Lea (A. S.) . . . 35 
Leaf (W.) . . i 7 , 4 6 
Leahy (Sergeant) . . 38 
Lee CM.) . . . .23 
Lee (S.) ... 25, 46 
Lee-Warner (W.) . . 13 
Leeper (A.) . . .46 
Legge(A. O.) . . 13,-3 
Leibnitz . . . . .6 
Leslie (G. D.) . . . 27 
Lethabv(W. R.) . 2,38 
Lethbridge (Sir Roper) 5, 13 
Levy (Amy) . . .23 
Lewis (Mrs. A. S.) . . 39 
Lewis (R.) . . . 16 
Lewkowitscii (J.) . . 38 
Lightfoot (bishop) 

5: 13. 39. 4°, 4*. 43.44 
LlGHTWOOD (J. M.) . . 15 

Lindsay (Dr. J. A.) . . 29 
Littledale(H.) . . 17 
Lockyer(J. N.) . 3,8,34 

LODEMAN (E. G.) . . 10 

Lodge (Prof. O. J.) 3, 27, 34 
Lodge (R.) ... 5 
Lowenso.j-Lessing (F.) . 11 
Loewy(IS.) . .33 

Loftie (Mrs. W. ].). . 2 
Longfellow (H. W.) 25,26 
Lonsdale (J.) . . 25, 46 
Lowe(W. H.) . . 38,39 
Lowell (f. R.l i 5 , ,8, 27 

Loudoun (W. J.) . . 33 
Louis (H.) . . .38 
Lu3BOCK(SirJ.) 7, 10,27, ro 
Lucas (F.) ... 18 
Lucas (Joseph). . . 47 
Lunt(J). ... 8 
Lupion (S.) ... 8 
Lyall (Sir Alfred) . 4 


• 23 

• 13 

• 44 

• 27 

• 23 

• 29 
. 12 

20, 25, 46 

• 27 

• 17 

• 44 





I 44: 


Lysaght (S. R.) 
Lyte(H.C. M.) 
Lyttelton (A. T.) 
Lyttelton (E.) 
Lytton (Earl of) 
MacAlister (D.) 
Macarthur (M.) 
Macaulay (G. C.) 
Macau lay (Lord) . 
Maccoll (Norman). 
McCurdy (J. F.) . 
M'Cosh (Dr. J.) 
Macdonald (George) 
Macdonald (G.) 
v!ackail(J. W.) . 
Maclagan (Dr. T.). 
Maclarkn (Rev. Alex.) 
Maclaren (Archibald) 
Maclean (G. E.) . 
Maclean (W. C.) . 
Maclear (Rev. Dr.)s8, 4^ 41 
McLennan (J. C.) . ' . 33 
M'Lennan (J. F.) . . 1 
M'Lennan (Malcolm) . 23 
Macmillan (Rev. H.) 27,44 
Macmillan (Michael) 6, 19 
Macmillan (M. K.) . 23 
Macquoid (K. S.) . . 23 
Madoc (F.) . . .23 
Maguire(J. F.) . . 48 

MAHAFFV(Prof. J. P.) 
2, 13, 16, 27, 32 

Maitland(F.W.) . 
Malet (L.) 
Malory (Sir T.) 
Malthus(T. R.) . 
Mansfield (C. li.) . 
Marcou (J.) . 
Markham (C. R.) . 
Marr (J. E.) . 
Marriott (J. A. R.). 
Marryat (Capt.) . 
Marshall (Prof. A.) 
Marshall (H. R.) . 
Martel(C.) . 
Martin (Frances) . 
Martin (Frederick). 
Martin (H. N.) 
Martineau (C. A.). 
Martineau (H.) 
Martineau (Dr. J.) 
Mason (A. E. W.) . 
Mason (O.T.). 
Masson(D.) 5, 18, 2] 
Masson (G.) . 
Masson (R. O.) 
Mathew (E. J.) 
Maturin (Rev. W.). 
Maudslky (Dr. H.) . 
Maurice (F. D.) 

jo, 27, 32, 38-40, 41, 44 
Maurice (Gen. F.) 5, 30, 36 
Max MOllf.r (K.) . 
Mayer (A. M.). 
Mayo-Smith (R.) . 
Mayor (J. B.) . 
Mayor (Prof. J. E. B.) 
Mazini (L.) 

Meldola (Prof. R.l. 8, 33 
Mendenhali. (T. C.) 
Menger(C) . 


Mkrcier (Dr. C.) . . 89 

1 1 

3 f 


Mercue (Prof. J.) . . 30 

Meredith (G.). . . 18 

Meredith (L. A.) . . 15 

Meyer (E. von) . . 8- 

Meyrick (E.) . . . 30. 

Miall(L. C.) . 30, 50 

Michelet(M.) . . 13. 

Miers (H. A.) . . .14 
Mill(H.R.) ... 11 

Miller (R. K.). . . 3 

Milligan (Rev. W.). 40, 44 

Milton . 5, 16, 18, 2 -„ 27 

Minto (Prof. W.) . 5, 23 

Mitford (A. B.) . . 23 

Mitford(M. R.) . . 15 

Mivart (St. George). . 35 

Mixter(W. G.) . . 8 

Molssworth (Mrs.) . 49 

Molloy (G.) . . .33 

MOLYNKUX (W. C. F.) . 30 
MONAHAN (J. H.) . . 15 

Montefiore (C. G.) . 43 


Moore (C. H.). . . 3 
Moorhoose (Bishop) . 44 

MORIER (J.) . . . 33 

Morison (J. C.) . . 5 
Morley (John). 4, 5, 20, 27 
Morris (E. E ). . .5 
Morris (Mowbray) . 4, 35 
Morris (R.) . . 35, 31 
MORSHEAX) (E. D. A.) . 46 
Moulton (L. C.) . . 18 
Moulton (R. G.) . . 38 
Mudie(C. E.) ... 18 
Muir(I.). ... 1 
Muir(M. M.P.) . . 8 
MOller(H.) ... 8 
Mullinger (J. B.) . . 13 
Mun(T.). ... 35 
Munro (J. E. C.) . . 15 
Murphy (J. J.). . 7,33,44 
Murray (D.Christie) . 33 
Murray (G.) ... 8 
Myers (E.) . . 18, 46 
Myers (F. W. H.) . 5, 19, 27 
Mylne (Bishop) . . 44 
Nadal(E. S.) . . . 27 
NHKNST(Dr.) ... 8" 
Netti.eship (H.). . . 16 
Nkwcomb (S.) . . 3 

Newcastle (Duke and 

Nl WMAN (G.) . 
Newton (Sir C. T.). 
Nichols(E. L.) 
Nicholls(H. A. A.) 
Noel (Lady A.) 
Nordenskiold (A. E.) 
Norgatk (Kate) 
Norris (W. E.) 
Norton (Charles Eliot) 
Norton (Hon. Mrs.) 
Nokway(A. H.) 
Omphant (T. L. K.) 
OnPHANT(Mrs. M. O. W.) 

5. «3. «6, 23, 35, 49 
Oliver (Prof. D.) . . 8 
Oliver (Capt. S. P.). . 47 
Oman (C. W.) ... 4 
Orr(H. B.) ... 1 
Osborn (H. F.) . . y 














»7. 31 



OsTWALD (Prof.) 

Otte (E. C.) . 
Page(T.E.) . 
Palgrave (Sir F.) 
Paterson (J.) . 
Patmore (Coventry) 
Patteson (J. C.) 
Pattison (Mark) 
Paulsen (F.) . 
Payne (E.J.) . 
Peabody (C. H.) 
Peacock (T. L.) 
Pearson (C. H.) 
Pease (A. E.) . 
Peel (E.) . 
Pellissier (E.) 
Pen nell (J.) . 
Pennington (R.) 
Penrose (F.C.) 
Percival(H. M.) 
Perkins (J. B.) 
Peterson (W.) 
Pettigrew (J. B.) 
Phillimore (J. G.) 
Phillips (F. E.) 
Phillips (J. A.) 
Phillips (W. C.) 

PlCTON (J. A.) . 
PlFFARD (H. G.) 

Pike (L. O.) . 
Pike (W.). 

Plumptre (Dean) 
Pollard (A.W.) 
Pollock (Sir F., Bart.) 

6, 16, 27, 36, 37 


. 8 
. 13 

• 39 
. 13 
. 16 

25, 49 

. 6 

5. 6, 44 
. 10 

12, 36 

io, 34 

. 23 

• 37 

• 14 

• 19 

• 3i 

• 32 

• 3 
. 11 

18, 19 

• 13 

• 23 


• 3 

• 27 

. 29 


• 47 

26, 46 

• 44 
16, 17, 46 


Pollock (Lady) 
Poole (M.E.) , 
Poole (R. L.) 
Pope . 
Poste (E.) 
Potter (L.) 
Potter (R.) 
Potts (W.) 
Preston (T.) 
Price (E. C.) . 
Price (L. L. F. R.) 
Prickard (A. O.) 
Prince Albert Vic 
Prince George 
Procter (F.) . 
Propert (J. L.) 
Prowse (D. W.) 
Purcell(E. S.) 
Quesnay(F.) . 
Rabbeno (U.) . 
Rae(J.) . . 
Ramsay (Sir A. C.) 
Ramsay (W.) . 
Ransome (C.) . 
Rathbone rw.) 
Ratzel (F.) . 
Rawlinson (W.G.) 
Rawnsley (H. D.) 
Ray (P. K.) . 
Rayleigh (Lord) 
Reichel (Bishop) 
ReidQ.S.) . 
Remsen (I.) 
Renan (E.) . 
Rendall (Rev. F.) 
Rendu (M.leC.) 


2 7 





1 1 















Reynolds (E. S.) . . 14 
Reynolds (H. R.) . . 44 
Palgrave (F. T.) 

3. 19, 21, 25, 26, 42,49 
Palgrave (R. H. Inglis) . 3s 
Palgrave (W. G.) 19, 37, 47 
Palmer (Lady S.) . . 23 
Parker (T. J.). . 7,49 
Parker (W. K.) . .6 
Parker (W. N.) 
Parkes (Sir H.) 
Parkin (G. R. ) 
Parkinson (S.) 
Parkman (F.) . . 
Parry (G.) 
Parsons (Alfred) 
Pasteur (L.) . 
Pater (W.) . 3, 16, 
Paterson (A.). 
Reynolds (Sir J. R.) 
Reynolds (O.) 
Rhoades(J.) . 
Rhodes (J. F.). 
Ricardo . 
Richardson (B. W.) 
Richey(A. G.). 
Righton (E.) . 
Ritchie (A.) . 

Robinson (Preb. H. G.) 
Robinson (J. L.) 
Robinson (Matthew) 
Rockstro (W. S.) . 
Rogers (J. E.T.) . 
Romanes (G. J.) 
Roscoe (Sir H. E.) . 
Roscoe (W. C.) 
Rosebery (Earl of). 
Rosenbusch (H.) . 
Rosevear (E.)- 
Ross (P.) . 
Rossetti (C. G.) 
routledge (j.) 
Rowe(F.J.) . 
Roy (Neil) 

Rucker (Prof. A. W.) 
Rumford (Count) . 
Rushbrooke (W. G.) 
Russell (Dean) 
Russell (Sir Charles) 
Russell (W. Clark) . 
Russell (T.) . 
Rutherford (W. G.) 
Ryland (F.) . 
RYLE(Prof. H.E.) . 
Sadler (H.) 
Saintsbury (G.) 
Salmon (Rev. G.) . . .4 
Salt(H. S.) . . .28 
Sandford (Bishop) . . 4+ 
Sandford (M. E.) . . 6 
Sandys (J. E.) . . . 47 
Sayce (A. H.) . . .13 
Scaife (W. B.). . . 27 
Scartazzini (G. A.) . 17 
Schi iemann (Dr.) 
Schmoller (G.) . .35 
Schorlemmer (C.) . . 8, 9 
Schreiber (T.). . . 2 
Schuchhardt (C.) . . 2 (Dr. G.) . . 9 
Scott (M.) . . 23 

Scott (Sir W.) . . 19,25 
Scratchley (Sir Peter) . 30 


• 49 

. 6 

13. 37 

• 34 

• 23 
. 15 
. 8 

231 27 
. 23 
. 29 

• 14 
. 23 

• 13 
35, 3 6 

14, 29 

3 1 



, 37 














4, ^3 




Scudder (S. H.) 
Seaton (Dr. E. C.) . 
Seebohm (H. E.) 
Seeley (Sir J. R.) .13, 
Shiler (Dr. Carl) 
SELBORNE(Earlof) 25, 
Seligman (E.) . 
Sellers (E.) . 
Service ( J. ) 
Sewell (E. M.) 
Shadwell (C. L.) . 
Shairp (J. C.) . 
Shakespeare . 17, 19, 
Shann (G.) 
Sharp (W.) . . 
Shaw (Miss) . . 
Shelley . 
Shipton (Helen) . 
Shirley (W. N.) . 
Shore (L. E.) . 
Shorthouse (J. H.) 
Shortland (Admiral) 
Shuckburgk (E. S.) 
Shufeldt (R. W.) . 
Sibson (Dr.F.) 
Sidgwick (A.) . 
Sidgwick (Prof. H.) 32, 

SlME (J.) . 

Simpson (Rev. W.) . 
Skeat (W. W.) 
Skrine (J. H.). 
Slade (J. H.) . . 
Sleeman (L.) . . 
Slomah (Rev. A.) . 
Smart (W. ) 
Smalley (G. W.) . 
Smetham (J. and S.) 
Smith (Adam) . 3, 6, 
Smith (Alexander) . 
Smith (C. B.) . 
Smith (Garnet). 
Smith (Goldwin) 

4, 6, 14, 21, 27, 37, 
Smith (H.) 
Smith (J.) 
Smith (Rev. T.) 
Smith (W. G.) . 
Smith (L. Pearsall) . 
Sohm (R.). 

Somerville (Prof. W.) 
Southey . 
Spanton (J.) . 
Spender (J. K.) 
Spenser . 
Spottiswoodf (W.). 
St. Asaph (Bishop of) 
St. Johnston (A.) .23, 
Stanley (Dean) 
Stanley (Hon. Maude) 
Statham (R.) . 
Stebmng (W.). 
Steei (F. A.) . 
Stephen (C. E.) 
Stephen (H.) . 
Stephen (Sir J. F.) 14, 
Stephen (j. K.) 
Stephen (L.) . 
Stephens (T. B.) 
Stephens (\V. R. W.) 
Stevens (C. E.) 
Stevenson (F. S.) . 
Stevenson (J. J.) . 
Stewart (A.) . 
Stewart (Baltour) 33, 


• 5° 

• 29 

37. 44 
29, 35 

40, 42 

• 36 

41, 44 

• 13 
. 46 
4, 19 

25, 26 

10, 34 
. 6 

• 13 
19, 26 

. 23 

• 44 

• 34 

• 23 

• 31 
14, 46 

• 49 

• 29 
. 20 

, 36, 37 

11, 13 

• 40 

• 17 

6, 19 

. 10 

• 47 
. 39 

• 3° 
6, 27 
. 6 

35, 36 
17, 25 

• 19 

• »4 

45, 47 






6, 26 



47, <9 




16, 27 







34, 45 





Stokes (Sir G. G.) . , 34 
Story (R. H.) . . .4 
Stone (W.H.). . . 34 
Strachey (Sir E.) . . 25 
Strachey (J. St. L.) . 37 
Strachey (Gen. K.). . n 
STRANGFORE>(Viscountess) 47 
Strettell (A.) . . 19 
Stubbs (Dean) . . .45 
Stubbs (Bishop) . .40 
Sutherland (A.) . . 11 
Swainson (H.). 
S\VETE(Prof. H. B.). 
Swift (Dean) . 
Symonds (J. A.) 
Symonds (Mrs. J. A) 
Symons (A.) 
Taggart (W. S.) . 
Tainsh (E. C). 
Tait (Archbishop) . 
Tait(C. W. A.) 
Tait (Prof P. G.) 
Tanner (H.) . 
Tarr(R. S.) . 
Tavernier (J. B.) . 
Taylor (E. R.). 
Taylor (Franklin) . 
Taylor (Isaac). 
Taylor (Sedley) 
Tegetmeiek (W. B.) 
Temple (bishop) 
Temple (Sir R.) 
Tennant (Dorothy). 
Tenniel (Sir John) . 
Tennyson (Lord) 17, 19 
Tennyson (Frederick) 
Tennyson (Lord H.) 15,49 
Theodoli (Marchesa) . 24 
Thompson (D 'A. V.) 8 

Thompson (E.). . . i? 
Thompson (II. M.) . . 36 
Thompson (S. P.) . . 34 
Thomson (A. W.) . . 10 
Thomson (Sir C. W.) . 50 
Thomson (Hugh) . . 14 
Thoreau . . . .28 
Thorne (Dr. Thome) 29 

Thornton (J.). . . 7 
Thornton (W. T.) 32, 37, 46 
Thorpe (T. E.). . . 6, q 
Thring (E.) . . 10, 28 
Thrupp(J. F.). . . 38 
Thikskield (J. R.) . . 5 
Todhunter (I.) . . 6 
Torrens(W.M.) . . 5 
Tourgbnief (I. S.) . . 24 
Tout(T.F.) . . 5,14 
Tozer(H. F.) . . . 11 
Traill (H.D.). . 4, 5, 36 
Trench (Capt. F.) . . 37 
Trench (Archbishop) . 45 
Trevelyan (Sir G. O.) 14, 28 
Trevor (G. H.) . . 20 
Tribe (A.). 




1 j 



6, 45 


33i 34, 45 







30, 26 



Tristram (W. O.) . . 15 
Trollope (A.) ... 5 
Truman (J.) • .20 

Tucker (T. G.) . . 46 
Tuckwell (W.) . .14 
Tufts (J. H.) . . .32 
Tulloch (Principal). . 45 
Turner (C. Tennyson) . 20 
Turner (G.) . . . 1 
Turner (H. H.) . . 34 
Turner (J. M. W.) . . 15 
Turpin (G S.) . . .9 
Tvlor(E. B.) . . 1 

I'yrwhitt (R. St. J.) 3, 20 
Tyrrell (R. Y.) . 16,28 
Vaughan(C. J.) 35, 43, 41, 45 
Vaughan (Rev. D. j.)25,28 45 
Vaughan (Rev. E.T.) . 45 
Vaughan (Rev. R.). . 45 
Veley (M.) . . .24 
Venn (Rev. J.). . 33, 45 
Vernon (Hon. W. W.) . 17 
Verrall (A. W.) . 17,46 
Verrall (Mrs.) . . 2 
Vickerman (C.) . . 38 
Victor (H.) . . .24 
Vines (S.H.) ... 8 
Viollet-Le-Duc (E. E.). 10 
Wain (Louis) . . .48 
Waldstein (C.) . . 2 
Wat ker (Prof. F. A.) . 36 
Walker (Jas.) . . 8 

Walker (Louisa) . . 38 
Wallace (A. R.) . 7, 30, 36 
Wallace (Sir D. M.) . 37 
Walpole(S.) ... 36 
Walton (I.) . . .15 
Ward (A. W.) . 4, «, 16, 25 
Ward (H. M.) . . " . 7, 8 
Ward(S.). . . .20 
Ward(T. H.) ... 21 
Ward (Mrs. T. H.) . 24,49 
Ward(W.) . . 6, 2 , 4 x 
Ware(W. R.) . . . 3 
Waters (C. A.) . . 35 
Waterton (Charles) 30, 47 
Watson (E.) ... 6 
Watson (R. S.) . . 47 
Watson (W.) . . 20, 25 
Way (A. S.) . . . 46 
Webb(W.T.) . . 18, 20 
Webster (Mrs. A.) . 20, 49 
Weisbach (J.) . . 10 

Welby-Gregory (Lady) . 41 
Wei.ldon (Rev. J. E. C.) 45,46 
West(M.) . . .24 
Westcott(Bp.)^8,39, 40,41, 45 
Westermarck (E.). . 1 
Wetherell (J.) . . 32 
Wheeler (J. T.) . . 14 
Wiiewei.l(W.). . . 6 
Wiutcomi) (L. S.) . 3,16 
White (A.) ... 28 
White (Gilbert) . 15,31 


• 29 

• 34 

• 9 

20, 26, 28 

• 45 

• 45 
36, 3^ 
35, 49 

• 36 

• 41 

• 3° 


) 2, 


White (Dr. W. Hale) 
White (W.) . 
Whitney (W. D.) 
Whittier (J. G.) 
Whittuck (C. A.) 
Wickham (Rev. E. 
Wicksteed (P. H.) 
Wiedersheim (R.) 
Wieser (F. von) 
Wilbraham (F. M.) 
Wilkins (Prof. A. S 
Wilkinson (S.) 
Willey (A.) 
Williams (C. M.) 
Williams (C. T.J 
Williams (G. H.) 
Williams (H.). 
Williams (Montagu) 
Williams (S. K.) 
Williamson (M. B.) 
Willink(A.) . 
Willoughuy(E. F.) 
Willoughby (F.) 
Wills (W. G.) . 
Wilson (A. J.) . 
Wilson (Sir C.) 
Wilson (Sir D.) 
Wilson (E. B.). 
Wilson (Dr. O.) 
Wilson (Archdeacon) 
Wilson (Mary). 
Winchester (Bishop of;. 
Windelband (W.) . 
Wingate (Major F. R.) . 
Winkworth (C.) . . 
Winkworth (S.) . 
Winter (W.) . 
Wolsei.ey (Gen. Viscount) 
Wood (A. G.) . 
Wood (C.J.) . 
Wood (Rev. E. G.) . 
Woods (Rev. F. H.). 
Woods (Miss M. A.). 
Woodward (C. M.) . 
Woolner (T.) . 
Wordsworth 4, 6, 17,20,26,28 

1, 4 








• 45 

. 16 





. 20 

• 45 

14, 45 

ax, 42 
. 10- 
. 20 

Worthey (Mrs.) 
Wright (Rev. A.) 
Wright (MissG.) 
Wright (J.) 
Wright iL) . 
Wright (M. O.) 
Wright (W.A.) 

WuLKER(Dr.) . 

Wurtz (Ad.) . 
Wyatt (SirM. D.) 
Yeo(J.) . 
Yoe (Shway) 

Yonge(C.M.)6,8,9, 13, t 3, 14, 
24, '6, 28, 32, 38, 49. 
Young (E.W.) 10 

Younghusband(G. J. and 

F. E.) . . . . 30. 
Ziegler (Dr. E.) . .a) 

. 24 

• 39 

• 9 

70, 26 

• 34 

• 2?, 3i 







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